


How Far We've Come

by Tsubasa_Hane



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: F/M, Side Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 04:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16422398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsubasa_Hane/pseuds/Tsubasa_Hane
Summary: Knowing what the future holds doesn't necessarily mean you can change it. Side Story to SECOND CHANCE.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted Jan 25, 2010 on FanFiction.net. It has been directly copied and pasted with no changes beyond a few formatting adjustments to accommodate AO3.
> 
> I started writing HFWC halfway through Second Chance. Originally, the latter was intended to focus more on the origins of the "New" Titans, how they came together, what their relationships among one another were like, and how they learned to be a team. These scenes ended up getting cut, but I subsequently pieced them together and added additional details to form this lovely side-story. Another piece of writing I often go back and reread on leisure days.
> 
> This was one of my few completely self-indulgent works, expected to be acknowledged by very few but written anyway for the simple reason that I wanted to.

Her heart pounded in time to the steady beat of metal boots against pavement as she darted through the back alleyways of downtown Jump City. Time was limited, and she was being pursued. She could hear them now—five of them, a female and four males. Only three could fly, but the other two were fast. Very fast.

Still, the odds remained somewhat in her favor. The moon had fallen behind a patch of thick clouds, making it near impossible to see at that time of night, and most of the street lamps in the neighborhood had either long burnt out or were broken. With her all-black ensemble, save for the burnt sienna tinging half her mask, she would be practically invisible.

When she thought the coast was clear, she crept into one of the smaller spaces between two vacant office buildings. Just long enough to check the tiny pouch on her belt, needing the reassurance that the item in question was still there. As before, it was weighted with the promise of victory, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking back, she probably should have just kept running.

"Freeze!"

She turned in partial shock at how close the voice sounded, thankful the mask would have concealed her expression. Less than ten feet away stood the famous Teen Titans—exactly whom she had been trying to avoid.

It was their leader who called to her...or, at least, the one she assumed was leader. A very muscular boy, he wore a simple pair of jeans and a black t-shirt emblazoned with some sort of personal symbol across his chest. His teammates flanked around him, each in a stance clearly meant to portray a readiness to attack upon command. Yet, he chose instead to lower his fists and step forward.

"Look, we don't want to fight you." His tone was just shy of patronizing. "Whatever it is, just hand it over and we'll let you go."

An eyebrow rose in partial disbelief, despite knowing fully well that he would not be able to see it. Was he serious? What kind of hero would be willing to dismiss criminal acts in exchange for the mere return of stolen goods?

His female teammate seemed to share a similar sentiment: "Wait a second. What do you mean, we'll let her go?"

"Not now, Wonder Girl," he called back through clenched teeth.

Had the circumstances been different, she might have found amusement in the strained look adorning his face as he struggled to maintain composure.

"Yes, now." The one called Wonder Girl placed her hands on her lips, glaring holes into the back of her supposed leader's head. "I'm all for rehabilitation, but there's still such a thing as consequences around here...as in, do the crime, do the time. Whether or not they surrender."

"Um, hello?" A dark-skinned boy dressed in blues and yellows knelt down on what looked to be an electrically-charged hover disk. "Much as watching the two of you go at it never gets old, can we please get back to fighting the bad guy instead of each other?"

The slightest shift in air pressure alerted her to the sudden presence of two figures on either side of her; she looked down to find identical white jumpsuits attached to identical cocky smirks. Her eyes widened when she realized that the one on the right had her vial!

Stupidly, her hand reached for the now-empty pouch dangling from her belt.

Anger welled within her at having been so easily distracted. She reached out to reclaim the vial, but both jumpsuits disappeared before she could blink, reappearing at their teammates' sides. The 'leader' and female were still on edge with one another, and hardly seemed to notice. This gave her an idea.

Dashing forward, she managed to catch the 'leader' first, her fists meeting with a fairly casual slap of his palms. Several more blows were dismissed in equally casual motions, the boy growing more confident with each block, until she surprised him with a sudden low sweep to the legs combined with a swift kick to the stomach. His female teammate was still close behind, so when he went flying back, he sent them both into an ungraceful heap on the cold cement.

Electricity crackled past her ear, and she looked up to find several more bolts charging in the fingertips of the boy on the hover disk. Not knowing how to shield herself, she executed a quick series of backflips and strategic footwork to avoid being struck. All the while, she mentally cursed herself for allowing him to get her on the defensive. But there was no way for her to reach him; he was too high above her, and her limited powers boasted no flying capabilities.

Her gaze fell on the twin terrors in between lightning strikes. Their powers involved super speed, she had easily deduced, but little else. They weren't all that graceful, either. If she could trip them up, or distract them just long enough to grab the vial—

A bolt hit her left shoulder, and she gave a low hiss in pain as her opposite hand instinctively reached for the wound. The voltage of the attack had been low enough not to cause serious damage, thankfully, but already she could feel the flesh beneath her torn uniform sting from potential second-degree burns.

That was it; she'd had enough.

The leader and his female teammate were just starting to untangle themselves from one another. The flying electromagnet was getting cocky. If she were to ever get the vial back, now would be her chance.

Reaching into the back of her belt, she pulled out a small capsule. A quick assessment of her surrounds, and she threw it to the ground. Instantly, the surrounding area was filled with a thick cloud of gray. As expected, the heroes were so caught off-guard that they forgot—or simply didn't realize—that their cries of surprise were not giving away their positions.

Electric boy had retreated higher into the air, hoping to maintain an aerial vantage, but his fit of coughing told that he hadn't been able to avoid the smoke. Leader and Girl were sticking close together, wandering no more than a few feet from where they had fallen, each calling out to assure the other's safety. And the one with the vial...

_Got it!_

They were much shorter than she, so with a running start, she fell to her knees and grabbed the vial as she skidded past. Her momentum allowed her to break into a sprint without pause, taking off before the lot could even register what had happened. She vaguely heard the cries of surprise as the little one realized he no longer had the vial, before they were out of earshot.

Were it not for the pain in her shoulder, she would have smirked at how easy that  _should_  have been. From all she had heard of the Teen Titans from her Master, she had been expecting more of a challenge. Their predecessors, the original Titans, had taken on some of the greatest criminal minds she had ever studied. But this new generation seemed sloppy, unfocused, and lacked any sense of unity among themselves.

She ran through the backstreets for nearly five minutes before allowing herself a pause for air. Resting her back against the rough surface of an old brick wall, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Only another mile and a half, and she would be home.

A cat screeched further down the alleyway, startling her, followed by the sound of clattering trash cans. She pushed herself away from the wall to investigate.

She almost didn't hear it in time; the subtle swoosh of a cape, just beyond her peripheral vision. Unfortunately, when she located its source, she turned directly into a flying kick that knocked her to the ground. The force of the blow was enough to rip off her mask, the hood falling to her shoulders.

Her assailant came to a low crouch as he, too, recoiled from the impact. His sight fell to where his foe had fallen, and was surprised to see soft, flowing locks of hair cascading down past the shoulders—hair that looked almost white as the soft moonlight came out from behind a cloud. For the first time, he was able to get a good look at the shape of the figure beneath the uniform. A girl.

Slightly taken aback by this, he slowly rose to a standing position. It took her longer to mirror his actions; on top of having the wind knocked out of her, she was heavily favoring her left side. When at last she made it to her feet, she lifted her eyes to meet his...and he found himself staring into the most brilliant pools of emerald he had ever seen.

She was sort of pretty, his mind absently noted. Her skin was fair, her hair even fairer, giving her an almost ethereal look about her. She couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen years old, the same age as he. Her face was on the roundish side, and there were signs that she had not yet lost all her baby fat. The rest of her was petite, almost delicate, and as she stood before him, he couldn't help thinking that she seemed...almost  _fragile_.

Then she gave a sudden sharp intake of breath, as if having been hit in the stomach, and her eyes clouded over.

He frowned. Villain or not, his protective instincts kicked in. He stepped forward, careful not to make any sudden movements that could startle her, and waited for a reaction.

Nothing.

He took another step, frown deepening as he called out, "Are...you okay?"

The sound of his voice shocked her from her stupor; she stumbled back, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. Her eyes scanned the ground frantically, as if searching more for an answer than an object, and when she finally lifted them, they were wide with fear.

"I...you..." she began, the softness of her voice making her seem even younger than she already way. But any further words died on her lips, and without thinking, she tried to make a run for the nearest exit.

"Wait!" He cried out, grabbing her arm.

She gave a small groan of protest and struggled against his hold, though there was a sudden desperation behind her actions. As pale as she had been before, her complexion had gone deathly white in the span of only a few seconds. Her breathing was growing more ragged than labored, the beginning signs of an anxiety attack.

"Let go of me!" She exclaimed in a near-panic. "Dammit, Tim,  _let me go_!"

He did release her, if only out of pure shock.

"W-what did you just call me?" There were only five individuals in all of Jump who knew his birth name, and none of them ever referred to him as such.

But she, too, had realized her error and remained frozen in place, meeting his wide-eyed gaze with a look of pure horror. Her whole body began to tremble, and when she opened her mouth to explain herself, nothing came out. She stumbled back a few steps, eyes never leaving his, until finally turning to make her escape.

For once, Tim Drake—previously known to the criminal world only as Robin—could not bring himself to give chase.

*** * ***

"I'm telling you, Kon," Donna insisted in a near huff. "That was a  _girl_."

Conner sighed, resisting the urge to rub at his temples. "I'm not saying it wasn't. Just that we shouldn't assume anything until we have some solid evidence, that's all."

"And what's  _wrong_  with assuming we're up against a female, anyhow?"

"N-nothing!" He sputtered, subconsciously sitting up a little straighter in his seat. Donna was in peak form that evening, it seemed. "I just—"

"Look, just because  _you_  have absolutely no experience with the female form doesn't mean I don't know a girl when I see one!"

"That's not what I meant, Donna, and you know it," Conner replied weakly, trying his best to ignore a snickering Virgil to his left.

The five Titans were sitting around a medium sized table, the room otherwise bare of furnishings. More than an hour had passed since their encounter with Jump City's newest criminal mind, and while none of the Titans had sustained physical injuries, the battle had dealt a major blow to their prides. Not a trace of the mysterious figure had been seen since the smoke cleared, and they still didn't even know the guy's name.

Or girl's, according to Donna.

"You want evidence?" The sole female of the group leaned back in her chair, arms folded across her chest in determination. "Well, how's this sound: given estimated height and weight, I'm guessing she's somewhere around Robin's age, meaning she would have already started puberty. Her hips extend out further than a boy of thirteen's would, her shoulders were much leaner, and I was able to detect signs of some very nice breasts beginning to develop. Seriously, wearing a skin-tight outfit like that, there's no way she would have been able to hide her sex for very long!"

Around the time Donna first uttered the word 'puberty', Conner had begun turning an interesting shade of red. A shade that deepened with every passing second. When he had requested they discuss observations in battle that might aid in identification, this was  _not_  what he'd had in mind.

For her part, Donna rolled her eyes when she realized that even Virgil was struggling to meet her gaze after her detailed analysis. Boys!

The two youngest of the group chose then to look up with mirroring expressions of guilt. Sharing a glance with one another, it was Miguel who spoke for them both: "We are sorry. This girl...she escaped because of us, yes?"

"Hey, lighten up, you two." Virgil tried to reassure them. "So she was more slippery than we thought. We may have underestimated her this time, but that don't mean we're gonna let her get by us next time!"

" _Doesn't_  mean," Donna absently muttered.

"My apologies, Grammar Princess," came the sarcastic reply.

"Guys..." Conner pleaded, sensing an oncoming migraine. When Donna shot him another Look, he quickly amended, "and girl."

Sometimes, he wondered if they purposely picked fights just to toy with him. They certainly chose not to listen to him, even though he was the designated leader. If Donna wasn't finding some feministic topic to mull over, Virgil would be right there with some other excuse for her to blow up. The twins tended to remain civil enough, but with their limited English and near co-dependency on one another, they usually contributed little to the discussions.

Of course, this was to say nothing of the resident 'Lone Wolf', who hardly even saw fit to grace them with his presence during—

As if on cue, a door outside the room hissed open. If Conner hadn't been looking up at just the right moment, he would have missed the colorful figure of the Titans' most reclusive member as he passed by.

"So nice of you to join us, Robin," Conner called out sarcastically. He knew his tone wasn't helping any, but he was growing too frustrated to play nice that evening. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

He fully expected Tim to shrug him off like usual; in the months since the newest Boy Wonder's arrival at Titans Tower, only a fraction of that time had actually been spent among team members. For what little compliance he could expect from the others, Conner had learned early on that Tim would simply not follow his lead. He ignored protocol, often went out on his own, and almost never shared intelligence with the rest.

So when the younger boy actually paused in the doorway, expression betraying the heavy thoughts on his mind, Conner was too taken aback to make any further comments.

"I was wondering," Tim began, addressing the group. "Have any of you been using our birth names out in public at all? Even in passing?"

The Titans each looked at one another in slight surprise before simultaneously shaking their heads.

"Of course we haven't," Virgil answered. "Why do you ask?"

"...no reason." Tim tried to shrug it off, turning to leave.

Sitting back in his chair, Conner had to struggle against a growing sense of jealousy deep within him.  _He_  was supposed to be the leader of the team, and yet Tim was able to get straightforward responses out of them with practically no effort at all. They didn't even seem to care that he was dismissing them without bothering to explain himself!

"Wait!" Donna cried out, drawing Tim's attention back into the room. "Maybe you can help us settle this. You run into that new criminal wandering Jump these last few weeks? Black suit, two-toned mask, likes taking things that belong to others?"

"Yeah?" Tim asked, confused by the line of questioning. "What about her?"

"Aha!" Donna exclaimed victoriously, turning to Conner with her hands in the air. " _Her_! Told ya, Konny!"

Conner groaned as she continued to make use of his least-favorite nickname, a hand rising to his forehead. Yep, it was definitely a migraine he felt coming on.

* * *

The communications room was dark when Tim entered, save for the bright glow of the monitor. Part of him knew Barbara would threaten to skin him alive if she found out he was risking his retinas so carelessly (again), but the other part just didn't care right then. He needed answers, and there was only one person he knew who could help.

"Robin to Nightwing," he announced as the link was established, taking a seat in the nearest chair. "You there?"

The screen fizzled and warped, until the image of a young man in his late teens appeared. The bluish tint to his complexion told Tim that he was not alone in risking ending up on the receiving end of a certain red-haired girl's wrath.

"I'm here. What's up?"

"Went up against this new villain tonight," Tim explained, getting straight to the point. He and Dick spoke so often that the usual formalities were no longer necessary between them. "I was wondering if you could find any background or other bits of info that might help."

Behind the mask, and eyebrow raised. "You've never needed my help before. What makes this guy so different from all the rest?"

"She's...not a guy," the younger boy admitted hesitantly, averting his gaze from the screen.

Dick was torn between sending his surrogate younger brother a teasing grin, and smacking himself on the forehead. He settled for both. "Oh, man!" A half-laugh, half-groan escaped his lips. "I know Bruce can be a bit of a bad influence at times, but I never thought—"

"I-it's not like that!" Tim nearly squeaked, sitting up a little straighter.

"That's what Bruce said. The first thee times, anyhow."

"Dick..." he pleaded.

The elder of the two chuckled in good humor, holding his hands up as a sign of temporary defeat. "Okay, okay. Assuming I believe you, why do you need me to dig into  _her_ background?"

"Two reasons. First, if I've recognized the uniform correctly, she's working for Slade." he paused as Dick's expression noticeably darkened. "For another, she knew my name."

"Well, that's not all that surprising." Despite the surge of anger at the mere mentioning of his former nemesis' name, Dick managed a shrug. "You've been in Jump for a while now. Any criminal with the most basic knowledge of the Titans would know who you are."

"That's not what I meant. She knew my  _name_...as in, the one my parents gave me."

Dick's lips pressed together in a thin line as he realized what the boy meant. "She told you this?"

"It sorta slipped out," Tim explained. "One minute, she was looking at me kinda funny, then she starts freaking out about nothing. I tried to grab her before she could run off, and she screams for me to let her. The thing was, though...it was like she was  _afraid_  of me, even more so after she realized what she'd called me."

Dick let out a hugh sigh, scratching at the back of his head. "I don't suppose she was just acting? Girls like to pull the whole 'helpless' routine when they're backed into a corner."

"But she wasn't." Tim's brows furrowed together in confusion. "That's what makes the whole thing so weird. It came out of completely nowhere."

"Then I'm not sure what else to say." Dick shrugged. "In my experience, you only get reactions like that when a villain is trying to freak you out, mess with your head so you'd let her go...but if you say that's not the case, then something bigger must be going on here." His attention turned to something just below camera-level, and Tim heard the sounds of keys clicking. "I'll see what I can find on her in the meantime. You got a name or physical description?"

"No name." Tim shook his head. "But she looked around my age. Umm...a little under five feet tall, maybe ninety pounds. Petite. Roundish face, fair skin with white hair and bright green eyes."

"She sounds pretty."

"She is," Tim replied without thinking. When his brain finally caught up with his mouth, he flushed a brilliant shade of pink. "T-that is...what I meant was—"

"Save it for Babs," Dick smirked knowingly. "You know there's no way she's not gonna find out about this."

Tim let out a low groan, slouching in his seat. A hand went to his forehead. "Me and my big mouth."

"Hey, it happens to the best of us." But then his voice grew distant as he added in almost a murmur, "Guess we both have a thing for green eyes..."

For a moment, Tim's expression grew solemn as he watched his surrogate older brother's face sadden. He had heard stories of Dick's past, and knew that he was thinking of something in particular just then...or, rather, someone.

"Listen, Tim," Dick spoke up suddenly. "I'm the last person who should be telling you what to do in this kind of situation. Based on stories I've heard, it could go either way. What I will say is that, if you genuinely believe that this girl needs saving, then you should help her."

"Really?" Tim's eyes widened.

"We're heroes. It's in our nature to want to protect others. Even the pretty ones."

"That's not—"

"I know." Dick abruptly cut him off. "If it were, I wouldn't be wasting my time helping you. You went with your instincts, not your hormones. And those instincts are telling you that something's not right here. Personally, I agree."

Tim blinked in surprise. "You do?"

A sharp nod. "I know Slade. He wouldn't use that kind of information to have his lackeys make weak attempts at psyching you out. He'd have gone after you himself at the first sign your guard was down." Folding his arms, Dick sat back in deep thought. "No, this leaves us with two burning questions. One, how she managed to get this information on you in the first place."

"And the other?"

"...why she hasn't told Slade about it yet."

*** * ***

Rose didn't stop until she was deep within the confines of the underground base.

Coming to a halt in one of the empty corridors, she pressed her forehead against one of the cool metal support beams and closed her eyes. A low groan escaped her lips, though not from the burn on her shoulder. Neither it, nor the small prize still sitting in her belt pouch occupied her thoughts. Not anymore.

She had experienced Visions in the heat of battle before—they only ever lasted a few seconds, anyway—but none had ever affected her so badly. How could they? It wasn't as if she regularly saw herself laughing and smiling with the enemy, chatting away about nothing like they were the closest of friends...

She clenched her fists tightly together as she pushed away from the wall in frustration. Her heart raced with the fear of what such a Vision could lead to. Of what it meant, and what would happen if  _he_  found out about it.

"Ravager?" A voice called to her from deep within the lair.

She froze, looking to the air as she willed herself calm. "Y-yes, Master?"

"Come to me, child. I await your return."

Taking a deep breath, she could only will her limbs to obey.

He was sitting in his usual throne when she entered, a large pot of tea sitting beside an almost comedically dainty cup. Though his mask was firmly in place, he still managed to maneuver the steaming liquid to his lips without difficulty. His body language gave no indication of acknowledging her approach, yet she knew he was watching her every move.

"I have returned," she announced, taking a knee in deep respect for the man.

"And your mission?"

"A success." She had almost forgotten about the small vial until that moment, retrieving it from the confines of her belt without hesitation. It seemed to shine under the room's oddly bright fluorescent lighting.

"Was there any trouble?"

"I did...encounter the Teen Titans, Master." She winced at the admission, hoping he would not be too displeased with her. "But I was able to escape without incident."

Slade paused just long enough to place the cup down in its matching saucer before reaching out to take the small glass tube from her. As the weight left her fingers, she lowered her arm but remained otherwise still. Through her peripheral vision, she saw him turn it over several times in his hand, inspecting every last detail with great care.

His sole eye then turned back to her, and he gave a low, throaty chuckle. "Do not lie to me, child." She shivered at his ominous tone. "I can see well enough that retrieving this for me did not go 'without incident', as you claim."

Her eyes widened as she watched him rise from his seat, placing the vial next to his half-empty teacup. The gentle clinking of glass as it touched ceramic echoed through the large room. As he approached, her lids snapped shut in fear, anticipating the harsh lecture she would receive. Possibly even punishment for her insolence. For failing him.

Instead, she felt the gentle touch of his cool fingers against her aching shoulders. She looked up to see him kneel before her, staring at the wound with even greater care than he had the vial. His gaze, thought partially concealed by the mask, betrayed his concern as he assessed the severity of her injury.

"You were attacked, child," he stated the obvious. "From the look of it, by the one called Static."

So taken aback at the sudden warmth in his voice, Rose could only nod.

"Thankfully, it does not look serious." Slade rose to his feet, helping her up in the process. "Come, we must get that tended to at once."

"But," she began, "I—"

Again, he chuckled, and she was amazed at how much less menacing it sounded to her now. "Did you think I would seriously punish you for returning to me in less than perfect condition?"

"I...did not wish you to think me weak." Her gaze lowered.

"I would not have chosen you if I thought you were." He placed comforting arm around her shoulders and led her toward the medical area. "You and I both know, child, that the extent of your powers do not include offensive techniques. Your fighting skills are human at best, true, but do not mistake a lack of strength for weakness."

"I don't understand." She looked up at him in confusion.

He paused in his steps, turning to better face her as he placed a hand atop her head. "You are young, inexperienced, and without superhuman fighting abilities, and yet you stood against a team of your peers who posses extraordinary powers of their own. Ones that  _do_  enhance their speed, strength, and skill. By escaping such an encounter with nothing more than a minor flesh wound, you have already surpassed my greatest expectations of you, dear daughter." His hand moved to cup her cheek. "I am proud."

At a loss for words, Rose was filled with a fresh wave of overwhelming love and admiration as she listened to his praise. Tears threatened to spill, but she managed to keep the unnecessary displays of emotion at bay. Still, she inwardly thanked the Powers That Be for allowing her presence to enter the man's life, and for his presence to be a part of hers.

"Tell me, Rose," he continued as they entered the examination room. The smell of sterilization hit her with full force. "Did you have any Visions this evening?"

No longer fearing his rejection, she openly admitted, "I did."

"How delightful," he proclaimed, sitting her on one of the larger, more comfortable cots. The burn kit was located in one of the higher cabinets, and he had to search several moments before finding it. "May I ask what you Saw?"

Rose nodded, if only out of habit. Slade had never once demanded that she disclose the details of her Visions, though she had never found a reason not to share them with him.

"I Saw one of the Titans."

"Interesting." His tone carried like one who was listening more out of politeness than genuine interest. "Did you learn anything of consequence?"

She opened her mouth to tell him all about Tim. About the young boy her age, with deep blue eyes and a fondness for childish pranks. Who put others before himself to an almost embarrassingly high degree, yet didn't seem to get along with his teammates very well. Information that she and Slade could both use well to their advantage.

But, at the last second...she hesitated: "I'm not sure."

Slade interrupted the conversation by pulling down the collar of her shirt just enough to expose the burn. Her skin had been rubbed raw from the strain she had put on it after being it, and though his expression was unreadable, his body language told her that he was less than happy about it. Still, he set to work applying rubbing alcohol to a sterile cloth, pressing it to the burn with great tenderness.

"Well, what was this Titan doing?" he asked, in an effort to distract her from the sudden sting.

Rose bit her lip to keep from crying out before answering, "H-he was laughing, sitting in a pile of snow."

"So it was winter," Slade noted. "Was he with anyone?"

 _He was with me._  "No, he wasn't."

"You saw him, alone, laughing in the snow?"

"Y-yes." Her lips seemed to be moving of their own accord, unable to speak the truth for reasons she could not understand. To collaborate the lack of information, she gave a light shrug, wincing as the motion sent a wave of pain down her arm. "It was not exactly the most interesting of Visions."

"I can imagine." He placed a gauze covered in cooling gel over the sterilized wound. It felt good. "Was there anything else you wish to tell me about the Vision?"

 _I heard his name! I_ spoke _his name!_

"No. I'm sorry."

"That's alright." She could almost hear the smile in his voice. He believed her unquestioningly. "You can barely control them, my dear Rose. I could hardly expect you to See vital information in every Vision."

When he turned to reach for the cloth bandages, she inaudibly let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding until then. For the first time, she was grateful for the unpredictability of her Visions. He was none the wiser.

_...but why am I giving him a reason to be?_

She knew that he was pleased whenever she Saw things that were useful to him, but he also never showed disappointment whenever she didn't. It was as if cared more for the growth of her powers than the powers themselves—that he cared more for  _her_. He was so understanding, it made her feel guilty to have lied to him at all.

"Thank you, Father," she spoke, her voice at a near whisper.

He nodded once before returning to the wrappings around her shoulder, unaware that she had not been referring exclusively to the first aid.


	2. Chapter 2

Nearly a full week would pass before they met again.

This was not to say that she hadn't been pulling heists during that time; daily reports coming in from Titans Tower were more than enough proof that she had/ But either her missions were growing easier...or she was getting smarter about them. Potential witnesses were put to sleep before they knew what was happening. There was no lingering around crime scenes any longer than necessary, not even to gloat. No flashy getaways or daring close calls.

For a criminal of her skill, Tim thought, she put in surprisingly little effort to enjoy her work. Either that, or she was purposely trying to avoid him.

Rose stiffened a yawn for the third time in two minutes, lazily swinging her legs back and forth from where they hung freely over the building ledge. Her mask had since ben discarded to one side and the cool night breeze felt soothing as it blew through her unbound tresses. One of the decorative stone gargoyles was straddled between her thighs, the only thing keeping her from a ten-story drop to the ground below. Yet she regarded it with as much indifference as if it were a mere ten inches, occasionally even leaning against the small statue to get a better view of her newest target.

In truth, she still wasn't exactly certain why her Master wanted her to break into a small plan nursery. It was heavily guarded, indicating that something of value must have been enclosed behind the large stone walls, but she had no idea what that something might be. Some special herb or toxin, perhaps?

Speculations aside, preliminary surveillance was one of the most boring aspects of the job. It was late—just after two in the morning—and most of the city residents had long since succumbed to sleep. Even the nursery guards seemed to be struggling to stay awake at times; the middle-aged one watching the outdoor post, in particular, had dozed off several times. Through half-lidded eyes of her own, Rose also observed some of the most mundane shift changes (at least three since the start of her watch), noted which corners were most heavily monitored during those times (there were surprisingly few), and assessed which routes would be safest (she could have strolled passed the outdoor post wearing a glow-in-the-dark bikini and  _still_  go unnoticed).

Heaving a sigh, the thirteen-year-old closed her eyes and folded her arms atop the gargoyle's head, resting her chin in the makeshift pillow.

"I know you're there," she called out, not bothering to move from her newly comfortable position. "You might as well come out."

If Tim was surprised that she had been able to sense his presence so easily, he made no outward indication of it. A faint swoosh of the cape later, he dropped down from the shadows above and came to stand just a few feet away from the girl.

"So," she began, voice dripping with thinly-veiled sarcasm. "How does this work? You gonna arrest me or something?"

He shrugged. "I don't see why. It's not like you're doing anything bad right now."

"I'm assessing the security precautions of the nursery so that I can efficiently rob it at a later time," she stated matter-of-factly.

"And you're telling me this because...?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"To prove you wrong."

"About what?"

She stiffen a groan. Were all heroes this stubborn, or was she just lucky enough to get stuck with a particularly thick-skulled one?

"Look, Tim," she lifted her head just enough to meet his masked gaze. "I'm a criminal. You're a hero—though not a very good one, it seems. Whatever you're planning, it won't work."

He sent her as innocent a smirk as he could manage, purposely ignoring the crack at his crime-fighting competence. "Who's planning? I just want to talk."

"Why?"

"Because," He pressed his back against the building wall and slid down into a comfortable seated position, showing he had no intentions of leaving. "You know something about me that few others do, and I want to know how."

Her eyes widened as she realized what he was referring to, and she had to turn away when she remembered that she had called him 'Tim' again. This time, the urge to groan was too strong to resist. Deep within her chest, her heart began beating a little faster. She had hoped he would forget about that by then, or at least given up.

Down below, she saw the middle-aged guard getting poked awake by a much younger individual. A woman, judging by the shape beneath her uniform. One who didn't seem like she would be as willing to let a glow-in-the-dark bikini get past her. Rose glanced at her wrist watch, mentally noting that any time after two-thirty would be more inconvenient, before realizing that Tim was still waiting for an answer.

"I...overheard your teammates talking one day." She told him. "That's all."

"No, you didn't. They've never called me by that name outside the Tower."

"I have your home under surveillance," she lied.

He saw through it instantly. "Doubt it. If you had, you wouldn't tell me so freely like that."

"Maybe I'm counting on you thinking that."

"Concealing the truth by openly admitting to it?" She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Nice try, but that's not really Slade's style. Or yours."

"Oh, what do you know about me?" Letting her temper get the better of her, Rose rose to her feet and turned on him with a heated glare. Her hands went to her hips in clear frustration. "Why do you even care, anyhow? So I know your name. Big deal. I just gave you a perfectly good reason why, now what else do you want?"

"I want to know why you're afraid," he replied casually, not batting an eyelash at her sudden tantrum.

She scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. Why would I be afraid of you?"

"See, that's just it." He leaned forward, expression growing serious. "I don't think it's me you're afraid of."

The bluntness of his statement caught her off-guard, to the point where she forgot she was supposed to be mad at him. Or at least act like she was. Blinking rapidly several times, she stared at the strange boy with an odd expression. Her mind reeled as it tried to figure out if he was merely baiting her, trying to mess with her mind they way he thought she was messing with his, or if his motives were pure.

Not that he was right, of course. Because she  _wasn't_  afraid.

After about a minute, she slowly lowered herself back into a seated position, this time with her back against the gargoyle. He had her full attention now.

"Why are you so interested in me?" She asked, genuinely curious.

The confidence seemed to leave him then. "Actually, I'm not really sure myself," he admitted, suddenly finding the cement beneath him fascinating to look at. "I mean, you certainly made an impression during our first meeting, that's for sure, but, I mean, it's not like I've never met another girl criminal before, although none of them were really my age, and—"

"You're rambling," she interrupted dryly.

"Am I?" He rubbed at the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry."

Despite herself, the corners of Rose's lips began to twitch. Something about seeing the boy so flustered and unsure of himself made her feel more at ease than she thought it would.

"Hey," he spoke again. "If I asked you a question, would you give me an honest answer?"

"No." She replied without hesitation, folding her arms. After a moment's pause, however, she looked away. "But...you can ask me anyway."

He rested an elbow against his knee, chin in hand. "How did you know my name? For real, I mean?"

She visibly winced, thankful that the shadows were dark enough to hide her expression from him. Her mind wandered back to what she had Seen during her Vision. The emotions that had swelled within her future self, including the joy— _joy!_ —at simply having been in the presence of this stranger sitting so close to her now.

They had been in a similar position then, only sprawled out in the freezing cold snow. Yet their faces were both flushed, like they had been physically exerting themselves for quite some time prior to the moment. Their clothes were damp, but his hair had been completely soaked, the moisture seeping into ever last gelled fiber. For all the discomfort that should have come with such a physical state, however, they had been...laughing. Enjoying themselves as if neither had a single care in the world.

If would have been a very pleasant Vision if she still did not carry the fear of her father's rejection fresh within her.

...wait.

_Fear!_

A near inaudible gasp escaped her lips as the sudden thought came to her: if Tim knew what she was...what she was capable of...then he would surely back down from his pitiful attempts to befriend her. No one ever stayed once they learned of her cursed nature.

"I can...See things," she began, carefully choosing her words. "Places and events that have yet to occur. That night, when our eyes met, I Saw you at a later time. Hard someone call you by your birth name." She purposely refrained from mentioning that it had been her own voice she heard. "That's how I know. Happy now?"

"You can...see the future?" He looked as if his brain were still processing the notion.

She nodded. "Flashes, mostly. And it's not like I can control it, either. It can happen almost anytime, with anyone, about anything."

Tim was silent for a long while after that, face frozen in a look of wide-eyed shock. Had she been in a more joking mood, she might have quipped that she had broken him.

Still, as the seconds ticked passed, Rose's heart began to ache more and more. She knew that this was what she wanted—that she was better off making sure she never gave her father a reason to reject her as the rest of the world had—and yet...a small part of her almost—

"That's  _amazing!_ "

She jumped at the boy's sudden exclamation, turning to him in surprise. "What?"

"I've heard stories of people with precognition powers before, but I've never met one myself!" He was wearing an oddly goofy smile that clashed with the dark mask and cape. One that made him seem more...youthful. "Where you born a metahuman, or did you get your powers in an accident?"

But Rose was too beside herself to register his question. "Wait, aren't you freaked out?"

"Are you kidding? After all the things I've already seen?" He waved a hand dismissively in the air. "But even still...wow!"

She stared at him in utter disbelief, torn between feeling pleased that he hadn't run off screaming, frustrated that he hadn't run off screaming...and doubting his sanity for not running off screaming.

"You...really are a lousy hero, you know?" This time, it wasn't an act. "The apprentice of your long-time enemy just told you that she can see your future, and you're  _excited_? Aren't you worried I'm going to tell Slade about you?"

"Nope." His confidence had returned, and hers was rapidly diminishing. "Besides, if you were going to, you already would have." To emphasize his confidence, he leaned back against the wall and placed his hands casually behind his head.

She opened her mouth to argue, to tell him that he was wrong...but she couldn't.

Because he wasn't.

This was all getting to be too overwhelming for her; not knowing what else to do, she reached for her mask and stood up. "I have to go."

"Go?" Tim's smile disappeared. "Right now?"

"Yes, now. I've got things to do.  _Criminal_  things," she elaborated, hoping he would take the hint.

"Well, you could at least tell me your name first."

She had just pulled the dark hood over her head when his statement made her freeze. "...huh?"

"Well, you already know my name," he reminded her, also rising to his feet. "It's only fair that I know yours too."

Even though his logic didn't even begin to make sense to her, she had a strong feeling that this would be another one of those things he would pester her about until she gave in.

"You can call me Ravager," she told him.

"I meant the name your parents gave you."

She hesitated before replying, "That  _is_  the name my father gave me."

And before he could question or make any further comments, she had secured her mask firmly in place and dove backwards off the building ledge, towards the City below.

*** * ***

Kara Kent blew at the mouse-brown strands of hair obstructing her vision, pushing them back behind her ear. Making sure that none of the cafe's other patrons were watching, she subtly checked her wig was still on straight. Even the distorted image reflected by the warped metal couldn't hide her disgust; she knew it was important to maintain her secret identity and all...but why didn't  _Clark_ ever have to wear a wig? As it was, he skated by with nothing more than a pair of lame glasses keeping him from being discovered!

In the midst of her inner fuming, the small coffee shop doors opened, the light jingling bells announcing a new presence. She looked up to see a familiar tall, leggy redhead wandering in, eyes scanning the room before coming to rest upon the single occupancy table. Barbara Gordon grinned upon recognizing the civilian disguise.

"It's about time, Babs!" Kara exclaimed, waving her lunch date over.

"Sorry I'm late, Kara." Barbara's cheeks were slightly flushed as she slipped into the booth's opposite bench. "I got caught up in a very interesting conversation with Dick this afternoon and lost track of time."

"Oh?" An eyebrow raised mischievously; Kara's gossip senses were tingling.

"Not what you think." Barbara shot her a pointed look, knowing exactly what was going on in the young Kryptonian's imagination. "We were talking about Tim."

"Drake?" Kara clarified, taking a sip from her glass of lemon water. "How's he doing, anyway? I haven't seen that boy since he ran off to go play Titan."

"Funny you should ask. If what I managed to pry out of Dick earlier is true, then it would seem our newest Boy Wonder has already gotten himself into quite the predicament."

Kara frowned in concern. "He's not hurt, is he?"

"Physically, no." Barbara shook her head. "Though I'm afraid I won't be able to say the same for his heart once he finds out what we learned about his new girlfriend."

"Tim has a  _girlfriend_?" Kara exclaimed, her one-track mind only registering the last part of Barbara's sentence. Her eyes lit up with excitement. "And why wasn't I told about this before? When did..." she trailed off, however, when she realized the other girl did not share her enthusiasm. Her expression grew solemn. "Okay, spill. How bad is it?"

"She's a criminal."

Kara shrugged. "So? It's not like he's the first guy to ever chase after the opposite side. Hell, he's not even the first  _Titan_."

"She's working for Slade as his new apprentice."

"...okay, slightly more complicated." Kara sat back and folded her arms. "Didn't that guy try to force Dick into some similar roll a few years back by threatening the rest of his team?"

"Infected them with some sort of nano-technology that seriously messed with their systems before Vic caught it in time." Barbara confirmed, nodding. "And I'm not sure Dick ever fully got over that episode. But that's not even the worst of it."

"How could it be worse than working for that sick, twisted, son-of-a—?"

"She's also his biological daughter."

Kara's mouth was left stupidly agape as she stared at Barbara in shock. For a fleeting moment, she half-expected the girl to announce that she was joking...if nothing else, than to erase the horrifying thought from her mind that a woman had willingly procreated with a man like Slade Wilson.

No such luck, it seemed.

"You're right." Kara's shoulders slumped as she felt the full weight of Tim's situation. "That boy really  _is_  in it deep."

*** * ***

On rare occasions, Rose was permitted to wander the streets of Jump without the responsibilities of a mission looming over her head. Without having to don the restrictive uniform, confining hood, or cold mask. Not that she wasn't proud to do so...but, sometimes, it was nice to go out in just a pair of dress jeans and a warm, pale-pink jacket. Thick grey boots shielded her feet from the icy chill, along with the soft, woolen scarf wrapped around her neck.

Even taking into account her young age, there was always so much to see and do once the sun had set. She cherished every moment of her nights off, taking full advantage of the city's famous nightlife. Most thirteen-year-old girls headed straight for the mall or cinema in giggling waves of estrogen. Sometimes, she joined in, thriving on the countless stories (however exaggerated they might have been) she gleaned from eavesdropping. But other evenings left her content to simply weave in and out of the downtown crowds, pretending she belonged.

That evening was no exception, and though the bitter autumn winds stung at her nose and cheeks, she walked among the citizens in content silence, eyes lazily scanning the numerous signs above in hopes of finding an adequate place to shield her from the cold. Maybe even grab a late dinner—one she would be willing to  _pay_  for.

Unfortunately, she had not been looking where she was going and crashed into someone walking in the opposite direction. Rose let out a small cry as she fell backwards, landing unceremoniously on her rear. Similar, the person she had run into also hit the cold pavement with gravity's full force.

"Ah! I'm sorry!" She apologized, holding a hand to her head to steady herself. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"No, it's my fault. I should've..." the other party started, trailing off mid-sentence.

Rose's looked up with a start, recognizing the prepubescent tenor almost instantly.

Just as she was out of uniform, he too was dressed in civilian clothes. A pair of dark slacks disappearing into black combat boots, and a black sweater partially covered by a white trench coat, to be precise. His hair was also limp, free of the usual gel that kept it at bay, and hung messily over his eyes in an oddly... _cute_  fashion. But most surprising was the fact that she was staring into a pair of large, baby blue eyes where she had before only seen his opaque mask.

They stared at one another for several seconds, before Rose recovered enough to comment: "You know...I'm pretty sure there are laws against stalking in this town. Even known criminals."

Tim managed a slight smile. "What if I said I just wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure that you weren't causing any trouble?"

"Then you'd be lying."

"Yeah. You're right." He admitted easily, pushing himself off the ground. When he was once more steady on his feet, he reached down to help her up. She accepted his hand without protest. "Seriously, though. Sorry about that. Guess I was a bit too deep in thought."

"You suck at tailing people, then." She commented.

"I wasn't tailing you. Honest." He held up his hands defensively. "Total coincidence, I swear."

A sarcastic roll of the eyes. "And I totally believe you, I swear."

"Okay, be that way." Tim shrugged nonchalantly, then grinned. "You know, you're pretty social for someone who insists they have evil,  _criminal_  things to do."

She flushed as her previous words came back to haunt her, but tried to hide it with a weak glare: "You're right. So, goodbye."

Just as she turned to make good on her promise, however, Tim called for her to wait. She paused, turning back in question, but soon realized that standing out in the middle of the sidewalk with heavy pedestrian traffic wasn't the best place to hold a conversation. He gave a quick jerk of the head, motioning to one of the vacant port steps in front of a nearby apartment complex.

She followed, if only to avoid getting trampled by a wave of scantily-dressed girls (no doubt, on their way to one of the several nightclubs a few blocks down).

"I was just kidding, you know." Tim stated, dropping the bravado. "You don't have to go yet."

"You're right. I don't have to." Rose agreed. "I  _want_  to. Besides, I'm due back home at ten-thirty."

" _Ten-thirty_?" Tim joked. "You're getting a pretty raw deal, you know. Even Cinderella got until midnight."

"Well, Cinderella was chasing after a prince." She folded her arms. "I, on the other hand, am simply trying to get  _rid_  of you."

"And failing miserably, I see."

He was taunting her now. With that cocky grin and snide tone, there was no way he wasn't. Eyes narrowing, she chose not to dignify him with any further banter, and turned to leave. But he was a split-second faster, moving directly in her escape path.

"Now what?" she snapped.

"Why do you work for him, anyway? I mean, seriously...a  _curfew_?"

"You and your questions." She groaned. "Why do you heroes always assume that anyone working for a criminal does so against their will? Hasn't it ever occurred to you that I might be  _happy_  about it?"

"No." He replied, without hesitation. "Especially because you don't seem all that happy about it."

"Well, I am."

But he went on as if she hadn't interrupted. "You seemed more... _frightened_  than anything." His eyes seemed to bore through her, and she shifted uncomfortably, looking away. "He's not threatening you, is he?"

"No."

"Blackmail?"

"NO!" She screamed, stomping her foot against the ground, not caring how childish it looked. Several people passing by stopped to stare, but she ignored them all. "God, you're annoying. If you're not planning anything, why do you care what I do?"

He actually hesitated before answering, "I'm not really sure."

"Very convincing." she muttered, tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Seriously, at first it was mostly just wondering how you knew my name, but then—" His face twisted into a genuine look of confusion. "I dunno. There's just something about you that's...interesting."

"I'm in no mood to become some charity project for your entertainment." She stated dryly, tapping one foot against the cold cement pavement as she folded her arms.

"That's n-not what I meant!" Tim exclaimed, cheeks reddening.

For some reason, Rose found herself smiling again. "You get flustered pretty easily, don't you?"

"No!"

"Again with the lies." She sighed over-dramatically, surprising even herself at how amused she sounded. "How on Earth do you plan on converting me if I can't even trust you to tell me the truth?"

Knowing she was teasing him only darkened his blush. "I don't want to convert you."

"You don't?" She raised an eyebrow, not believing him in the slightest. "What do you what?"

"I don't know?"

"Then why are you still talking to me?"

"I don't know," he sighed, shoving his hands roughly into the pockets of his trench. The temperature was rapidly dropping, and they could both see their breath in the dim street lights. "I just kinda...like talking to you."

She gave him a sideways glance. "Why?"

"I don't know."

"Worst. Conversion attempt. Ever." She stated plainly, yet found herself smiling anyway. Taking a seat on the bottom step, she looked up at him with a degree of sincerity. "But at least you're honest about it. I think. Most heroes try to sweep the girl off their feet with silver-coated declarations of love and ride her off into the sunset on some magical rainbow unicorn."

He frowned at her cynicism. "Does that actually work?"

"No." She shook her head. "But it makes for some great stories around the campfire."

"Villains have campfires?"

"Absolutely." She nodded, completely serious. "Just like superheroes actually have magical rainbow unicorns."

He grinned at her. "Now who's the liar?"

"I told you you're a bad hero," she shrugged. "You've corrupted what little honesty I had left."

"If I recall correctly from our last conversation, you were doing pretty fine in that department yourself." He quipped back.

She was just about to make another come-back when a sudden shiver wracked her body. Her hands instinctively went to her forearms, rubbing them in hopes of creating some much desired heat from the friction. Noticing this, Tim took a seat beside her and offered his most sincere smile.

"Listen, it's only a quarter to nine, and it's getting colder by the minute." He jerked his head towards the downtown scene. "There's this really nice cafe about a block and a half from here...wanna go get a cup of cocoa or something?"

She stared at him in between attempts to warm herself. "You really don't get this whole 'you, hero—me, villain' thing, do you?"

"'fraid not." His smiled widened.

She let out a small laugh, lowering her head in sheer amazement. All her fears of Slade finding out seemed to lessen the longer she exchanged words with Tim—especially since they were out of uniform for the time being. Sure, it would never last...but, for just one night, she would be willing to indulge.

"I suppose a cup of coffee couldn't hurt." She admitted, trying to ignore the way his face lit up at her acceptance. "You're buying, though."

"Coffee stunts your growth, you know." He told her, standing up.

She scoffed, dismissing the thought with a wave of the hand. "Like you're that much older than me. Or taller."

"I'm sure I've got at least three inches on you." He insisted.

She stared at him.

"...two and a half?" He tried again.

Rolling her eyes, she began walking in the direction he had indicated before. "Come on, before I actually start to grow."

"You never did tell me your real name, you know." Tim reminded as he fell into step with her. "And don't start with that whole 'Ravager' business. I want a birth name."

"Rose," she stated, no longer willing to argue with him.

"That come with a last name?"

"Hey, you're lucky you got a first name," she tried joking, but the look on his face told her he would spent their entire caffeine trip asking if it came to that. Sighing, she gave in. Again. "Wilson. My full name is Rose Wilson."

He stopped so abruptly, he nearly tripped her. "Wilson?" He repeated. "As in... _Slade_  Wilson?"

She gasped; it hadn't dawned on her that he would know the man's full name.

The look on her face told him everything, and his expression darkened. "It is, isn't it?"

Not knowing what else to do, she nodded. "The same." She looked away, more hurt by his reaction than she'd expected. "Still want that cup of coffee with me?"

When he didn't immediately answer, she took his silence as a sign of rejection. Tears threatened to brim the corner of her eyes, but she willed them back and turned to leave. But then Tim grabbed her her by the hand; she turned back to find his baby blue eyes staring at her with a mixture of sadness and...something else.

Something she couldn't quite identify.

"Yeah, I still want that cup of coffee." He told her softly. "Something tells me we've got a  _lot_  to talk about."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello, luv."

Jinx glanced up from the book in her lap, smiling when she recognized her longtime best friend. "Hey yourself, Argent."

The Australian heroine gave a casual sweep of the hand in greeting, tiny metal bracelets on her wrists jingling lightly with each movement. She looked to have just come from a night of clubbing; her outfit, fashionable as ever, consisted of various reds and blacks in the form of a sleeveless minidress, ripped tights, and knee-high boots. Her short hair was styled into an explosion of seemingly random spikes, dark makeup accentuating her gothic tastes.

In direct contrast, Jinx was in full uniform, ready to begin her shift in a little under three hours. With little else to do in the meantime, she had wandered into one of the Watchtower's lounges and found herself the largest, most comfortable armchairs in the room. A quick glance through the extensive literary selection had come up with a thick Hindu hardcover, from which she had spent the last half hour engrossing herself in the various mythologies of her birth country.

"So, what brings you to my little corner of the Watchtower?" Jinx asked.

"Really now, is that the best you can do?" Argent fake a look of hurt, planting herself on one of the chair's plush armrests. "It feels like forever since I've had you all to myself, you know. Where  _is_ your faster half, anyway?"

"He's on a mission with Hawkgirl and one of the newer girls. Somewhere along the equator, I think."

Argent raised an eyebrow at the girl's surprisingly calm manner. "I'm impressed, luv. You usually throw a fit whenever he's teamed with anything possessing a uterus."

"It's not like I'm happy about it," Jinx admitted cooly. "But the way I see it, one, Shayera knows to keep an eye on him for me...and two, I know where he lives."

"Ah, there's the Jinx I know and secretly pine for on cold winter nights!" Argent joked, placing a hand to her heart. "And while we're on the subject of our tragic love affair, any chance I could steal you away for a few? Preferably somewhere private."

Jinx glanced around the nearly empty room. Only a few stragglers continued to wander in an out, with most of the Leaguers either on-duty or having other things to do than sit around idly. The majority that didn't only lingered for a few minutes at a time, and none of them paid the two teens so much as a second glance.

"This is probably as private as we're going to get," she shrugged.

"I suppose." Argent sighed, then slid down into the seat with Jinx. The cushion was just large enough to accommodate them both comfortably. "So, you'll never guess the latest word on the street."

Jinx eyed her suspiciously. "Have you been talking to Barbara again?"

"No!" Argent protested a little too quickly, followed by a weaker, "...Kara."

"Because  _she_ 's any better." Jinx muttered under her breath, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She loved Argent dearly—they had been closer than sisters ever since the day they met—but the girl was almost as bad a gossip as Wally. With even worse company. "Lemme guess; Garth finally came out of the closet."

"Oh, if only!" Argent smirked. It was one of her and Jinx's favorite running jokes between them. "No, this is something even better."

"And what that might be?"

"Well, according to my  _highly_  valuable sources—" She purposely ignored the skeptic looks being sent her way. "—there's a fantastic little drama unfolding in good ol' Titans Tower."

"Oh, so  _Donna_ 's finally come out of the closet."

At that, Argent erupted into a fit of laughter. Jinx's sense of humor was easily as wicked as her own. "That would be better, but still no."

"For Heaven's sake, Toni, what is it then?" Jinx nearly exclaimed.

Argent leaned forward with what could only have been described as a cheshire grin, voice dropping to a near whisper, "Apparently, the newest Boy Wonder is rumored to be going after Slade's daughter."

Jinx gave a low whistle. "He's got guts."

"He's got a lot more than that." Argent stated. "He's  _succeeding_."

The smile faded from view as Jinx stared at her longtime friend in wide-eyed surprise. She soon looked away, memories from a time that seemed so long ago rising to the front of her mind. A time that, while she was not entirely proud of, she wouldn't have traded for anything in the world.

"Sound familiar at all, luv?" Argent lightly teased.

Quietly, Jinx lowered her book to the ground, turning back to Argent with an unreadable expression and her fullest attention: "...tell me everything."

*** * ***

Rose couldn't breathe.

Gasping for air, she roughly tore the mask from her face, flinging it at the base of the nearest tree. It bounced off the rough bark before falling into the crevices of a few exposed roots. She stumbled after it, her aching body making it just far enough for her to lean against the trunk. The pain from her swollen ankle shot up her leg with every step she took; she figured it was sprained, if not broken.

Nausea threatened to overwhelm her as she pressed her back against the tree, sliding down into a limp seated position on the ground. She could feel bits of the bark scratching against her uniform, but hardly cared at that point. Every inch of her felt like it was on fire, despite the temperature having dipped below the freezing mark and hour before. Her breath came in deep clouds of fog, disappearing into the branches above.

With the last of her strength, she reached for the small tracking device on her belt. Once her father saw the signal, he would send someone to pick her up—it was a safety precaution she never thought she would have to use.

As she drifted in an out of consciousness, she gradually became aware of another presence approaching.

"...se? Rose, what happened?"

It was Tim; she could hear him clearly now, recognizing the flashes of red and green through her blurred vision as parts of his uniform.

"Messed up," she mumbled, lulled by the vibrations of her own throat. "Caught...Titans...barely got away."

"We need to get you to a doctor."

"M'fine." She insisted, head lolling to one side. "Tracker. Someone's...coming."

There was a lapse of time in which he said nothing, then the sensation of a cool washcloth being pressed against her forehead. She winced in pain as it came in contact with a deep cut, and only then she register the warm trickle of liquid trailing down the left side of her face. He was tending to her injuries.

"N-no." She weakly protested, trying to shake him off. "No, he'll see if you..."

"Shh. Don't try to talk." He insisted, pressing a cool finger to her lips. She could taste the latex from his glove. "I won't do much, but at least let me clean it a little before it gets infected."

Too exhausted to protest any further, she gave a nod and allowed him to continue. Her body subconsciously relaxed into his touch as he gently lifted her chin to assess the severity of the cut, his cool gloves feeling wonderful against her burning flesh. A moment later, he resumed wiping away at her wound, careful not to hurt her further. He wiped the side of her face as well, fingers lightly brushing back the few damp strands of hair that had gotten loose from her hood.

"'thought you were in Gotham," she mumbled absently, trying to keep from passing out.

"I was. Just got back yesterday."

"Why wer'n you with th' Titans, then?" She sighed as he held a fresh cloth to her forehead in an attempt to lessen her fever. "Didn' see you with 'em."

He did not answer at first, and she felt his whole body tense.

"You're burning up," he eventually told her, purposely avoiding the question. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

Her head flopped from side to side. "'ll be fine as son as 'm home. Go."

"Alright." He didn't sound certain, but stood up regardless. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

She was nearly asleep by then, in a state where she could no longer feel the heat or pain. It was only in the lingering moments before she completely lost consciousness, long after Tim had left, that a single thought began to enter her mind. One that would continue to plague her for the next several days, even in sleep:

_If Tim was back in Jump, why wasn't he fighting alongside the rest of the Titans?_

*** * ***  

It had snowed for the better part of the day, leaving the ground coated in a thick blanket of white. Not a soul had disturbed the area since, and though the sky was breathtakingly clear that night, there was little chance that anyone would before dawn. So when she heard the distinct crunching sound of snow beneath boot, she knew it was him.

He did not call out, nor did she immediately move to greet him. Her back remained turned as she stared into the starry night. Thinking.

Had she been in a more rational state of mind, it would have made perfect sense for him to not want to stand off against her anymore. They were... _acquainted_  well enough, to where me may have found it difficult to willingly cause her any harm. Or maybe he was worried that his teammates would pick up on any odd interactions that would give everything away.

There could have been any number of logical explanations for his behavior...but her mind had long surpassed the point of logic. By the end of her three-day illness, she had convinced herself that he refused to fight her because he didn't' want to _beat_  her. That he didn't trust her enough to hold her own.

And, for some reason, the thought angered her. More than it should have.

Slowly, she turned to face him. Her expression was blank, but he was smiling widely—that idiotic grin he wore every time they met. She had always thought it to be one of his more endearing traits in the past...but right then, her anger-induced haze could only see the way it mocked her. Patronized her.

Her eyes narrowed; without warning, she shifted into an offensive stance and moved in for a direct strike. If nothing else, she had the element of surprise; Tim was so caught off-guard, she left him stumbling backwards with a wide-eyed look at the abrupt attack. He dodged her first punch, if barely, and only then because she had been far enough away for him to see it coming.

"Hey!" He held up his hands in defense. "Rose, it's me!"

She said nothing, fists clenching so tightly her knuckles beneath the gloves had probably turned white. For her next attack, she tried a more controlled two-hit combo. It was pure reflex that saved Tim, holding up both arms to block before ducking from a spinning hock kick. He scampered through the opening beneath her leg, kicking up a spray of ice as he moved.

A muted cry escaped her lips as the tiny drops splashed across her face, and she held up her hands in vain hope of shielding her eyes.

Seeing an opening, Tim tried again: "What's going on? Why are you—?"

He didn't get the chance to finish before she moved in for a low sweeping kick. Jumping out of the way, he left a cloud of powdery snow in his wake. Instinctively, he spun into an aerial sidekick, hitting the girl directly in the chest and sending her flying back. He landed in a low crouch, watching as she skidded back with a hand where his foot had made contact.

She looked surprised, then quickly resumed her neutral expression. Again, she lowered herself into a stance. Tim mirrored it, realizing now that the only way to get an answer would be to defeat her.

This time, he was the first to move. She backed away as his fist aimed for her head, tilting it to the far left and then right to avoid being struck. Her arm swept upward for an elbow jab, but Tim was able to easily slap it aside. She used the fleeting contact to downward, placing her hands against the frozen ground for leverage to lift her leg up and swing it at the side of his head.

Tim leaned far back enough to avoid it, then ducked as a wave of loose snow was flung in his direction—she had grabbed a fistful while her hands were on the ground.

They continued like that for several minutes, each trading blows but neither landing anything definitive. Snow flew in all directions as they utilized their surroundings in hopes of gaining the advantage. Not a single word passed between them, Rose's expression never once betraying her still unknown intentions as she focused only on attacking with everything she had. All the while, Tim tried his hardest to meet her every strike with one of his own.

As she held up her arm to block a chest-high kick, the force pushed her back despite a lack of direct contact. It would have easy enough to recover from, had her foot not hit a patch of ice in the process. She nearly slipped and lost her balance. Tim saw his chance and moved to strike while she was unprepared.

Rose's eyes widened, and she ducked. A rush of frigid air brushed against her neck, Tim's fist having missed her by mere inches. When she turned, she saw him shifting his stance directly below one of the larger, snow-filled trees. An idea flashed in her mind, so quickly that she did not give it time to fully register before acting.

Crouching down, she went in for a running kick. Tim was ready to block, but at the last second, she passed him and instead kicked the tree. Hard. Pushing off the bark, she was just barely able to skid backwards from harm, swinging her body into a low kneeling position.

Tim was genuinely confused for a split-second...until he was hit with a heavy pile of snow from above.

She cautiously rose to her feet, staring at the frozen (both figuratively and literally) form of her opponent. Tim's shoulders had rose in reaction to the sudden, unexpected weight, elbows jerking upward at the cold. Her face was fixed into a comedic expression of pure shock, emphasized by the mounds of snow that had stuck to various parts of his body...including the fluffy icicles now sticking out of the top of his head.

She couldn't help herself; all at once, the anger that had previously consumed her vanished, and she let out a burst of uncontrollable laughter at the sight. Her arms wrapped around her ribcage as she doubled over, struggling to remain on her feet.

"Ha. Ha." Tim stated dryly, only then shaking himself loose. A hand went to his head to try to brush the snow from his hair. "I take it you're over whatever got into you earlier?"

Unable to speak, she nodded.

"Good." He soon gave up on the futile effort to save his hair from frostbite and resigned himself to flopping down into the snowbank at his feet. Rose joined him not long after, still giggling.

"That's was kind of fun." She told him with a smile.

He tried to glare, but ended up breaking out into a grin of his own. "Yeah, it was. Next time, how about a little warning, though, huh? I was starting to think you were mad at me or something."

At this, she sobered up, smiling fading as the reason behind her initial mood resurfaced: "You don't want to fight me?"

"Not for real." He stated, as if the answer should have been obvious. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"We're enemies." She corrected, though she sounded more saddened by the thought than frustrated. "You and I fight on opposite sides. When I commit crimes, you're supposed to stop them."

"Wait, you're mad that I  _don't_  want to put you in jail?" His face twisted into a look of confusion. He knew that girls didn't always make sense, but even Donna followed some line of logic behind her actions.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "The other day—the botched heist. All your teammates were right there to stop me, but you weren't."

"I don't understan—"

"Why?" She asked, much softer than before. Her shoulder slumped. "Do you really have that little faith in my fighting skills?"

"Whoa, wait a second! Where'd you get that idea from?" He was too taken aback to be offended.

"You haven't stood off against me in battle since...since..." she trailed off, not sure how to describe what it was they had, "...since the first time."

"And you think I won't go into battle against you because I don't think you're strong enough?"

She nodded.

Tim let out a deep sigh, leaning back into the snow on his elbows. "Well, that's just not true. It has nothing to do with you."

" _Nothing_?" She repeated skeptically.

"Okay, maybe a little." Tim admitted sheepishly. "It can be hard fighting someone I consider a friend, but that's not the whole reason...or even the main one. And that's the truth."

"Then what is?"

For the first time, Tim's expression considerably darkened, his eyes glossing over as if remembering something. He did not answer, even though Rose could tell that it was not the thought of her that caused such a reaction. Not entirely.

She frowned. "You're not still worried that I'm going to run off to my father with anything you tell me, are you?"

"No, that's not it." He sat up, and though his expression did not change, he sounded somewhat apologetic. "It's just...not something that's easy to talk about."

It was rare for her to see him in such a state. Tim was usually so cheerful, or at least in relatively good spirits. For ever insult she had ever slung his way, every attempt she had made at blatantly dismissing him, he had come right back with some quip that could even break through her hard shell. The thought of him acting in any other way seemed almost...wrong.

Before she could stop herself, Rose got up and moved to sit beside him in the snowbank. She was so close that she could feel the heat radiating off his body and see the deep rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took.

"You're the one always trying to get me to talk," she stated lightly, leaning back against the tree. "For once, how about I listen?"

He managed a smile and leaned back as well. "Fair enough."

But as the seconds ticked passed, a period of silence overtook them. One that should have been awkward, and yet strangely wasn't. The temperature was well below freezing, and though they were sitting in a pile of snow, their close proximity managed to insulate them to a tolerant degree. Rose let out a sigh as she watched Tim through her peripheral vision, knowing that he would talk when he was ready. As patient as he had always been with her, she thought it was only right to allow him the same courtesy.

"It's just..." he finally began, "It's hard to be on a team where your own leader doesn't trust you."

She rolled her head along the tree to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I've been Robin for a few years now, but there was someone who wore this mask before I did." His fingers lightly brushed against the edge of his temples. "He was the original Robin, and the first leader of the Teen Titans. Con—Superboy took over after he left. Don't get me wrong; he's been a great leader during that time...but..."

"Now that Robin's returned, he's reluctant to give up the role?" she guessed.

"Yes and no." Tim sighed. "He doesn't want to hand over the position...but I don't want it, either."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that he hasn't gotten that through his thick skull yet." He shifted his position to better face her, their knees almost touching. "When I decided to join up with the Titans, I did so because I wanted to be a part of a team. I was never much of a leader, anyhow, and I would've been fine with taking orders as long as there was still that level of respect. But, for some reason, Superboy's convinced himself that I'm trying to start up some mutiny or something against him. He hardly ever speaks to me, and when he does, it's full of snide comments and cold undertones. It gets harder and harder to go out into battle with a leader who clearly doesn't want you there."

"Well, why don't you just quit?" Rose suggested. "If you hate it here so much, go back to Gotham permanently." She chose to ignore the tug at her heart that came with the thought.

He shook his head. "None of the others treat me that way. I couldn't up and abandon them just because the Boy of Steel's paranoia gets the better of him."

"What's it like?" She asked him abruptly. "Being a Titan, I mean. Aside from the leadership issues."

"Well, it's a lot like being a sidekick, only I get to work with more kids my own age." He thought back to the other members of his team, trying to find the best way to describe each of them. "Wonder Girl's kinda scary sometimes, and she's got a wicked temper, but she's also the only person I've ever met who can put Superboy in his place and make him stay there. She sticks up for me a lot, too. Más and Menos—those are the twins—are always playing video games or causing some sort of mischief around the Tower. Like the time they talked Static into competing in The Great Shock-Off."

"The what-now?" She raised an eyebrow at the name. "Do I want to know?"

Tim's face slowly broke into a smile. "It was pretty funny, actually. See, they realized that they could pick up an electrical charge at will if they dragged their feet along the carpet at super-speed. Naturally, they decided to use this newfound knowledge to challenge Static by seeing which of them could successfully shock the rest of us, along with any guests that came to the Tower, without getting caught."

"And your fearless leader didn't put a stop to this?"

"Oh, he tried. Consequentially, he was ranked bonus points."

She smirked evilly at the through of Superboy helpless to stop such entertaining chaos around him. "So, who won?"

"Static, of course." He looked oddly proud as he added, "But only because he dared to go after Wonder Girl. Twice."

"And lived?" Even if Tim hadn't mentioned it earlier, Rose vaguely recalled witnessing the Amazonian warrior's temper first-hand.

"Of course." He paused in all seriousness. "I mean, it  _did_  take us over a week to find him after the fact, but I'm sure she didn't hurt him too badly."

She giggled. "I don't suppose you took part in any of this yourself?"

"Me?" He scoffed at the notion. "You're asking if I participated in a childish game that, not only would I have been severely outmatched in, but would risk severely pissing off my team leader."

"Well?"

He thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "It was good practice for my reflexes."

"I'm sure." She replied back sarcastically, lightly bumping her knees against his. "For someone who dedicates his life to protecting others, Tim, you sure do lack any sense of self-preservation."

"Now what would make you say that?" He asked in an equally joking manner.

"Well, not only do you regularly rest the limits between you and your hot-tempered teammates," She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. "But you risk a hell of a lot to befriend someone like me."

"What can I say? Maybe it was worth the risk." She could hear the amusement in his voice as he spoke.

Sure enough, when she glanced at him over her shoulder, she saw him looking up at her with a smile. But it wasn't his usual, cocky smirk that he wore every time he had some witty comeback. This smile was...softer. More serene.

A strange feeling washed over her as she continued to stare. Not just the smile, but everything about Tim seemed to radiate peace. His cheeks were still flushed, no doubt from the cold, and the ice in his hair had only just begun to melt. Yet he showed no signs of discomfort, taking it all in stride. Even their prior conversation no longer seemed to affect him as he stared up at her with...

She froze, turning away as she let out a sudden gasp.

Tim sat up instantly in concern. "What is it? A Vision?"

He was only half-right.

What she saw just then weren't a fresh wave of images, but rather the memories of those that had come to her at a time that now seemed so long ago...along with a distinct snippet of conversation.

*** * ***

*** * ***

" _For someone who dedicates his life to protecting others, Tim, you sure do lack any sense of self-preservation."_

" _Now what would make you say that?"_

" _Well, not only do you regularly test the limits between you and your hot-tempered teammates...but you risk a hell of a lot to befriend someone like me."_

" _What can I say? Maybe it was worth the risk."_

  *** * ***

*** * ***

She was on her feet with a start as realization set in. Tim came to her side almost as quickly, but she didn't hear a single word he said to her. Instead, her eyes stared directly ahead, unfocused and unseeing until she eventually turned her head toward him.

"I have to go," she stated, suddenly short of breath.

"Now?" He asked, clearly surprised. "What's wrong?"

"I..." she began, but couldn't find the right words. "I just need to go."

This time, she didn't give him the chance to stop her, or even follow. Her legs moved of their own accord, carrying her across the field and out of the park. Only vaguely did she hear Tim call after her, her mind awash with dizzying thoughts and emotions.

She ran through the city in a near panic, paying no attention to the various street signs she passed. She ran until her muscles burned and her chest ached from lack of oxygen. And kept running. Not until she had successfully gotten herself lost in one of the vacant lots downtown did she finally stop, stumbling into one of the cement blocks scattered across the area. There, she fell to her knees, gasping for air while using the block to support her own body weight.

She had seen them. The day she and Tim first made eye contact...the Vision that had come to her then...it had come true, word for word. She, the daughter of Slade Wilson, lounging in a frozen snowbank with a Teen Titan, laughing and chatting away in such a friendly manner. Only, she realized, it hadn't been friendship she felt towards him. Not anymore.

Her heart pounded in her chest, so strongly and frantically that she thought it would explode at any moment. Along with the aftershock of the sudden, unexpected wave of emotion, the fear was returning as well. Stronger than ever, and with new reason to. Associating with the enemy was acceptable. Befriending him was less so, but easy enough to make excuses for. But this?

How would she ever be able to justify to her father...that she was  _falling_  for Tim?

"Dammit," she sobbed, the tears pooling freely in her eyes now.

"Yeah, that had been my first reaction too."

Rose gave a jump at the sudden presence, turning with a light gasp of surprise. Standing before her was a lovely woman in her late teens with extremely fair skin and pink— _pink!—_ hair. A heroine, no doubt, judging from the ensemble. Who else would wander around Jump city in a purple leotard?

"W-who are you?" she asked, instinctively retreating against the cement block.

"My name's Jinx." The woman stated simple. An aura of confidence seemed to surround her as she stepped forward and continued, almost empathetically, "I think you and I should talk."


	4. Chapter 4

The scent of popcorn wafted through the empty halls of Titans' Tower, growing stronger the closer he came to the main common room. A faint, blue-tinged glow spilled into his path from beneath the door. Taking everything into account (including the unusually early time for lights-out), the Boy Wonder could only surmise one possible outcome.

Movie Night.

Not long ago, he would have loved to join his fellow Teens. Many an all-nighter had been spent subjecting themselves to some of the most infamously known Z-movies to have ever been released among the unsuspecting public; a chill still ran up Tim's spine at the mere mentioning of  _Sextette_  or  _Six-String Samurai_. But he'd loved every second of the cruel and unusual punishment, if nothing else but for the fact that his teammates had been right beside him, equally torn between laughter and tears.

These days, however, there was an unspoken rift between them. Tensions were high, thanks to the ongoing feud between himself and Conner, and he didn't want to drag the others into it. All the buttery popcorn, sugary soda, and candy in the Tower couldn't get him into that room that evening.

Just as he turned to head in the opposite direction, an innocent voice called out to him:

" _Se_ _ñ_ _or_  Robin!"

Tim visibly winced at Miguel's overly-cheerful tone. He slowly turned back around to find the younger of the twin siblings eagerly waving at him, a wide smile on his face. The remaining occupants of the room were also looking to him expectantly.

"Come! You must join us!" Miguel insisted.

"Yes, yes! You must!" his brother agreed with equal enthusiasm. "We are watching the movies about a man and his robot friends make jokes of the bad movies. It is most amusing."

Glancing over at the unreadable expression on Conner's face, Tim forced a half-hearted smile and shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, boys, but I'm not really up for a Mystery Science marathon this evening. Some other time?"

The mirroring looks of sadness on their faces were almost enough to weaken his resolve, but he knew they would understand.

"Running out on us again, huh?"

Tim let out a low groan at Conner's snide comment. This was  _exactly_  what he had been trying to avoid. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means." Folding his arms over his chest, the team leader sat up a little straighter in his seat. "You don't even have the decency to join us or Movie Night?"

"Listen, Kent." Tim knew his tone wasn't helping things any, but he was getting tired of having to constantly explain himself. "I've had a rough night and am in no mood to listen to you rag on me right now. What's it to you if I don't feel like watching movies, anyway?"

"Oh,  _you_ 've had a rough night?" Conner's voice was dripping with sarcasm. He made a show of rolling his eyes. "My mistake. Because, clearly, what you do is  _so_  much more important than fighting crime and protecting this City alongside the rest of us."

Donna sent him a wary glance. "Oh, lay off, Conner. Just leave him be."

"No. This needs to be said, and apparently I'm the one to do it." Conner uncrossed his legs and stood up. "Though I can't understand why you're defending someone who's trying to ditch his own team. Again"

"Nobody's ditching anybody, man," Virgil insisted from his spot on the floor.

"Sure seems that way from my point of view. Doesn't it bother you that he'd rather go off sulking in his room than spend any time with us?"

"That's not—" Tim began.

"What if I made it an order?" Conner interrupted, walked over to where Tim still stood just inside the doorway. "What if I ordered you to come join us?"

" _Order_?"

"That's right." He lifted his nose in an attempt to look more imposing. "Would you disobey a direct order from your team leader?"

"You're full of it, Kent. I think the power's finally gone to your head." Tim snapped. He could feel his own fists clenching tightly at his sides.

"He's right, Conner," Virgil commented lightly, trying to diffuse the situation before things got out of hand. "You can't order somebody to watch a movie."

"It's not about the movie, Virgil." Conner called back over his shoulder. "It's about the fact that Tim, here, doesn't seem to get what it means to be on a team." He shot Tim a disapproving look. "He never comes to fight with us, never tells us what he's up to...hell, sometimes, I get the feeling he doesn't even  _want_  to be a Titan."

Something inside Tim snapped; he lunged forward, only to be restrained by Virgil at the last second. Similarly, Donna stepped in front of Conner to keep him from getting in any strikes of his own. For a moment, the room was filled with indiscernible cries of fury and clashing testosterone.

"Okay, that is  _enough_!" Donna screeched over the din, shoving a perfectly manicured finger into Conner's chest. "You, sir, are completely out of line! We've been listening to you rant and rave at poor Tim's expense for months, and to be perfectly frank, I'm  _sick_  of it!"

"He started it," Conner insisted.

"Like hell, he did," Donna spat back. Behind her, the twins gave a simultaneous gasp of surprise at her language. "The poor guy's been trying so hard to avoid any confrontation with you, it's a wonder we  _ever_  see him anymore. If I'd been in his shoes, you can bet I'd have hauled ass back to Themescayra long ago."

"So this is all on me now, is it?" Conner was on the defensive now. "Right...seeing as how, unlike me, Tim can do no wrong. Why else would you come running to his defense time and again?"

Tim was seeing red. "When will you get it through your  _thick_  skull that I  _don't_  want to be leader? I never have, and I never will!"

"No one said you did," Virgil murmured from behind.

"Bullshit," Tim hissed. "Why else would he constantly try to make me look bad in front of everyone? I'm sick of it!"

"If you're that unhappy with my leadership, why don't you just leave, then?" Conner suggested darkly.

"Nobody's going anywhere." Donner stated matter-of-factly. "Now, stop trying to pick a fight, Conner, and sit back down already."

But Conner roughly shrugged her off. "Forget it, Donna. You might be willing to put up with him, but I'm not going to." He stormed out of the room, stopping just long enough as he passed Tim and Virgil to mutter, "Guess you win again, Drake. Maybe you  _should_  be leader, since everyone want to listen to you."

Tim struggled a little rough against Virgil's hold, but said nothing as he watched Conner's retreating form. Only when the boy was out of his sight did he make a show of inhaling once deeply, slowly letting the breath out. His shoulders slumped in resignation. Virgil let him go soon after, and he used his newfound freedom to raise a hand to his head as he felt the oncoming of a stress headache.

"Hey, don't let him get to you, man," Virgil offered as a way of apology. "He's been under a lot of stress lately, with Superman's birthday coming up and all. You know how the media tends to go haywire this time of year, and they won't leave him alone about it."

"Whatever," Tim murmured, no longer in any mood to discuss Conner or the reason behind his constant mood swings. A second presence approached, causing him to peek an eye out beneath his heand. He smiled wearily. "Thanks, Donna."

"That's right, you'd better be thanking me." The Amazonian smirked, only half-joking, and grabbed him by the hand. "You can start by joining us tonight."

She dragged him back to the center of the room before he could protest, nearly throwing him into one of the larger piles of sofa cushions scattered about the floor. Tim landed face-first in an ungraceful heap of cape and pillow stuffing, the floor muffling his cries of pain. As he struggled to right himself, however, Tim felt a genuine smile tugging at his lips; he settled into a slightly more comfortable position with his back leaning against the couch legs and glanced around.

Donna had reclaimed her 'throne' in the nearby love-seat, tucking her legs beside her as she clutched one of the softer pillows to her chest. On the opposite side, Virgil kicked back in a recliner, propping up his feet as he reached for the television remote. The twins had taken to pillow-hopping around the floor in a never-ending competition for the highest degree of both comfort and access to the junk food.

With Conner having run off the mope in his own, personal Fortress of Solitude, the idea of relaxing with his fellow Titans—coupled with a much-needed sugar high—suddenly sounded like the perfect distraction from his earlier situation with Rose.

"So, which episode are we up to?" Tim asked, reaching for one of the unopened Milky Way bars.

"Space Mutiny," Virgil answered.

"Sweet."

The opening credits began to roll in a display of nonsensical lyrics and ridiculously bad special effects. Tim settled a little further into his makeshift seat and took an unseemly large bite out of his candy. He resisted the urge to sing along with the video, as the twins were doing. No use further encouraging their absorption of poor English grammar.

"So..." Virgil spoke up once the main characters onscreen began their usual introductions. "Who is she?"

Tim nearly choked on his candy. "H-huh?"

"The girl you've been seeing. Anyone we know?" The look on his face was akin to that of an alley cat that had just captured its prey.

"What—" Tim swallowed, trying to keep his voice calm. "What makes you think I've been seeing a girl?"

Virgil's smirk only widened as he motioned upward with his right index finger; realizing exactly what he meant, Tim gave a low groan.

"Babs?"

"Well, I heard it from John." Virgil shrugged. "But you know tracking Watchtower gossip is like playing Six Degrees of Batgirl."

"...who went running to Kara, who ratted to Toni, who snitched to Jinx, who  _definitely_  told Wally, who mentioned it to Shayera, who just  _had_  to say something to the Lantern," Tim muttered darkly, wondering if it was possible to disown a surrogate older sister. "How much do they know?"

Another shrug. "Not much, from what I've gathered. Only reason anyone's even been talking is because it's been a slow news week."

"Lucky for me." Came the sarcastic reply. Not even the beginning of the actual  _Space Mutiny_  sequence, bizarre slow-motion explosions and all, could save him from Donna's piercing, amused gaze. "It's not what you guys think, just so you know."

"Oh, relax." Donna quipped, casually sipping on her bottle of lemonade. "It's not like we're gonna harp on you for having a social life, you know. Though, I take it our Fearless Leader is the main reason for all the secrecy?"

"Not exactly." Tim looked to the ground. "It's kinda...complicated."

"It's always complicated." Virgil waved a dismissive hand in the air, then used the same hand to reach for one of the soda cans at his feet. "Hell, I don't think there's a single Leaguer up there who couldn't say the same thing.  _Especially_  the ones dating each other."

"That's...not what I meant.

Donna's eyes softened as she heard the genuine concern in his tone: "This girl...she's not in trouble, is she?"

"I honestly don't know." Tim shook his head. "I mean, I think she might be, but she won't even tell me what's going on."

"Maybe it's just something she wants to handle by herself."

"If I thought that were the case, I'd leave it alone." He slumped against the bottom of the sofa. "It's not like she can't take care of herself or anything. I just...I dunno...I can't help worrying about her. I want to help her."

Virgil nodded seriously. "It's official. You're in love." He tossed the younger boy one of the last soft drinks. "Here, have a soda."

"Anything we can do to help?" Donna offered.

Tim smiled, but shook his head. "Probbaly not. Thanks, though."

"Hey, that's what we're here for," Virgil answered before Donna could get the chance. "After all, we do more than just play peacemaker around these parts."

"Peacemaker?" Tim rose an eyebrow.

"So it's fun to ruffle Donna's feathers a bit now and again." Virgil tried to look as innocent as possible. No one was fooled. "Not my fault those repressed feelings she has for me make her want to fight back."

"In your dreams, little boy." Donna rolled her eyes.

Tim had to stiffen a bout of laughter at the thought. "No offense, Virg, but she'd sooner have 'repressed feelings' for Conner than you."

Donna actually thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I'll go with that."

"Suits me just fine," Virgil smirked, making a show of ignoring the fact that Donna was sitting only a few feet across the room. "I keep saying those two need to get laid; doing it with each other would be like killing two birds with one stone."

Tim's eyes widened in horror; against his better judgement, he turned to Donna. His blood ran cold at the promise of Death radiating from her very aura long before he saw the look on her face. A look that told him said Death would come as slowly and painfully as possible.

"Oh, hell." Face pale, he turned to the twins just in time to hiss, " _Run!_ "

"VIRGIL HAWKINGS, WHEN I GET THROUGH WITH YOU, THERE WON'T BE ENOUGH LEFT TO CHARGE A CREDIT CARD!"

*** * ***

A lingering silence hovered between the two girls as they sat on adjacent swings in the middle of the Jump City park. It was just shy of dawn, and there wasn't a soul to be found. They had found their way over to the playground area sometime in the midst of their lengthy discussion, and while words no longer passed between them, the impact of those that had were still near palpable.

"You okay?" Jinx eventually asked, tilting her head to one side in concern.

"Yeah, I guess." Rose's fingers had wrapped so tightly around the chain links that her knuckles were white. "It's just...a lot to take in."

Jinx nodded in understanding, leaning back in her plastic seat. She could easily relate to what the young villainess was going though, given that she had been in an eerily similar position a few years back.

"There's something I want you to understand, Rose." Her voice was gentle and full of empathy. "Heroes and Villains crossing paths is nothing new, but it isn't often that things work out. Me and Flash...well, we're kinda unique in that sense."

"What usually happens?" Rose asked, looking up.

"Oh, both parties just end up parting ways. If they're lucky, on relatively good terms. If they're not...well..." Jinx visibly winced, as if recalling such an incident. "Mainly because neither side was willing to give in to the other."

Rose's shoulders slumped. "Then...it's impossible for such a pair to ever be happy?"

"Not truly, no." Turning her eyes to the ground, Jinx began to pump back and forth with her legs in an effort to get a light swinging motion going. It had been a while since she had the chance to swing; she made a mental note to come back here with Wally at a later date. "Oh, sure, some have managed to get flings going for a while. Once in a blue moon, you'll even get a kid out of the equation...but, in the end, Light and Dark are forever destined to circle one another, never meeting in the middle."

Rose's cheeks reddened at the mentioning of 'children'. She knew Jinx was referring mostly to adult-aged couples (at least, Rose  _hoped_  she was), but the thought still came a wave of embarrassment for the thirteen-year-old. Shifting uncomfortable in her seat, she decided to change the subject.

"How did your hero convince you?"

Jinx smirked as she passed by. "Truthfully? He didn't." Upon her return, she caught the surprised look on Rose's face and gave a light chuckle. "Sure, he was all about trying to talk me into seeing the error of my ways during the fight. But once I'd finally stood up for myself against Rouge and walked away, he stepped back and gave me a chance to make my own decisions."

Rose's brows furrowed together as she tried to follow both the conversation and Jinx's volleying. "So, he... _didn't_  want to convert you?"

"I have no doubt that he wanted to, but he also didn't want to force anything on me that I didn't want for myself." She sighed, momentarily pausing in her pumping. "You know, that's part of the reason why I chose him in the end."

Rose looked away, hair shielding her face from view. She thought about her situation, and the choices she would have to make on her own.

Jinx gave a slight frown, knowing all too well what was going through the younger girl's mind. "Listen, Rose, I'm not gonna lie. I had it pretty easy. There was nothing to tie me to the criminal world. I had no family, no real friends...but you have a father who, morals aside, seems to genuinely care about you."

"I know," Rose murmured softly, still not looking up.

"Then you need to ask yourself this question: would you rather spend the rest of your life at his side, a criminal, or hope for something better?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you shouldn't make a decision like this for anyone but yourself." Jinx sighed, leaning back in the swing so that the ends of her hair were nearly touching the ground. "I didn't leave the H.I.V.E. for Flash. I left because I was tired of subjecting myself to verbal and physical abuse at the hands of someone I used to look up to. That wasn't the kind of life I wanted."

"Father's not like that." Rose insisted, sitting up straighter in her swing. "He's strict, but he's never once hit me, or even said anything bad to me."

"Then you  _don't_  want to leave him?"

"I...don't know."

Jinx pulled herself back into a sitting position, shoulders slumping as she felt the genuine helplessness in the girl's tone. She knew Rose wasn't trying to argue or make things more difficult. It was almost too much for someone her age to have to carry on her shoulders—as it was, she was more than two years younger than Jinx had been.

Shifting her weight, Jinx resumed her earlier attempts at pumping herself on the swing. "It wasn't an overnight decision for me, either." She stated simply. "Most people seem to think that Flash swept me off my feet and towards the setting sun, and that was that. But it took a long time and a lot of intimate discussions before I finally made my choice."

Rose's lips pressed formally together as she watched the acrobatic nineteen-year-old rise higher and higher with every swing. She absently wondered if this was her way of blowing off some steam, as she seemed to be really into the act of striking random poses at each apex.

"Why don't you talk to him?" Jinx asked during one of her passes.

Rose's eyes widened and she shook her head frantically. "I-I can't! He doesn't know about Tim, and—"

"I didn't mean Slade," Jinx interrupted. By now, she had achieved a height several feet off the ground. "I meant Tim. Tell him about what's got you so fearful, and see what he says."

"What good will that do?"

"You might be surprised." With a wink and one last push, Jinx gracefully leapt off her swing, summersaulting once in the air before landing in the snow-covered ground a feet feet away. Her arms extended for balance, she abruptly turned around, a knowing smile plastered across her features. "I've known the little bird boy for quite a few years now, and I can say this much about him: he's way too smart to just walk away from a good thing when he sees it."

"But...you said—"

"I know what I said, and I stand by it." Lowing her arms, she folded them over her chest and shifted her weight to one side. "On the other hand, I also happen to be living proof that things can work out...if the couple wants it badly enough."

*** * ***

That night, Rose donned her Ravager costume once more.

She slipped out of the base long before her father had the chance to notice her absence, easily maneuvering her way through the city with threat of detection. Unless she was given a specific assignment beforehand, he generally allowed her to come and go as she pleased. This made it much less suspicious than if she were expected to remain on stand-by.

Evidence from their previous evening's rendezvous were still streaked across the terrain. Had she not been so focused on her mission, she might have smiled at how much 'damage' they had done to the snowy terrain. But her eyes soon fell upon the familiar snow-covered landmark, and the lone figure leaning against its frozen bark. Like he had been waiting for her to show.

"Tim," she murmured softly, removing her mask.

He turned at the sound of his name, breaking into a grin as he spotted her. "Rose!"

The smile quickly faded, however, as he saw the near blank expression on her face. She was staring after him as if for the first time, breathing coming in deep, steady waves of fog. He frowned in concern, but would say nothing until she was ready.

Eventually, she took a step towards him...then another...until there were only a few inches separating them. Her eyes glistened in the bright moonlight, and though Tim didn't fully understand, he allowed her to gently rest her forehead against his shoulder. In turn, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her to him.

"It's okay," he murmured into her hair. "Whatever it is, it's okay."

She tilted her head to one side, pressing her ear against his chest. "I'm sorry I ran off last night."

"Don't worry about it," he insisted. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah...you did."

He tried to meet her gaze, but she had lowered her head so that her hair was in the way. "I don't understand."

At first, she didn't respond. Her eyes closed, and she spent the next few moments listening to the gentle rhythm of his heart beat. It was strong, steady, and lulled her into a greater sense of ease. Somehow, even Tim's mere presence was enough to calm her fears now.

"You...were right, you know. From the beginning," she told him.

"Of course I was right. I'm always right." He lightly joked. "Umm, what exactly was I right about this time?"

"That I was afraid. Of my father. Of you. Of...this." She still refused to look at him as she spoke. "The day we met, I knew we'd become friends. And I was afraid of what would happen if my father found out."

He felt her tense for a moment, but allowed her to continue.

"He's...he's been so good to me for so long, I felt like I was betraying him. That I would disappoint him if he ever found out about...about..."

"Us?" he finished for her. She nodded against his chest, and he had to resist the urge to laugh. A hand found its way to the back of her head, where her hood had fallen back, and began stroking the soft hair beneath his gloved fingers. "So, basically, you've felt guilty for being happy."

Only then did she pull away to look at him, eyes wide. "No! That's not...I never..." but when words failed her, she sighed in defeat. "I know what kind of man he is, the reputation he holds in this city, but he's still my father. He's never been anything else to me."

"What kind of father would subject you to the lifestyle you lead now?" Tim asked softly.

But she shook her head. "You don't understand, Tim. I  _chose_  to become Ravager. Father never wanted me out on the field; I had to convince him to let me train."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted to be able to repay him for all he's done. I wanted him to love and...trust me."

As she spoke, Tim reached up with one hand and gently brushed back her hair, tucking several pale strands behind her head. His fingers found their way to her chin, gently lifting it so that her gaze would better meet with his.

"You really love your father, don't you." It was neither a question nor an accusation.

She nodded. "I know it seems strange, but I—"

"Not as strange as you think." He grinned. Stepping back, he lifted his arms over his head like he was stretching, eyes staring out into the empty field. "You know, there's a saying that someone once told me. Someone I knew a long time ago, back when I was really too little to even understand what it meant."

Even though he was no longer looking at her, she tilted her head to one side, urging him to continue.

"He told me that, while we might like someone for their qualities, we love them for their defects." He turned back to her with a smile that sent a flush of warmth to her cheeks. "I didn't get it then, but I do now. What he meant was that you should never have to explain yourself for loving somebody because love is supposed to be unconditional. No matter who it is, or what they are."

"Even..." she audibly swallowed, heart fluttering in her chest. "Even if he's somebody you shouldn't?"

Tim gave a light chuckle as he took her hands in his. "Nobody gets to decide that for you but you."

"But, what if—" her breath nearly caught in her throat as their eyes met, and she knew they were talking about more than just her father now. "What if there's a chance that person would never...love you back?"

"I have a feeling that's not going to be a problem."

Something hard was pressed into her palm just then. She glanced downward, gasping when she recognized the familiar shape and design of a Teen Titans' communicator. The bright, yellow device looked almost out of place against her dark gloves, and she had to trail her fingers lightly over the giant "T" several times to verify that it was, indeed, real.

At a loss for words, she looked up to him questioningly.

"I'm not going to pretend I don't want you to choose me," he stated unabashedly. "But, in the end, I can't be the one to make that choice for you. Just...know that the offer is there. It always will be."

She opened her mouth to speak, but when the words wouldn't come out, instead looked back to the communicator to make sure it was still here. Her sight darted between it and Tim several times before settling on him. The way he was smiling at her then...the gentle look in his eyes, easy enough to see even through the mask, neither judging nor expecting anything from her.

Her fingers clasped tightly around the communicator, she lowered her arms and tentatively stepped forward. Tim barely had time to close his eyes before her lips met his in a brief, chaste kiss. Their first.

"Thank you," she breathed as they parted, pressing her forehead to his. "For everything."

*** * ***

When she returned to the base, Rose's head still swam from the overwhelming emotions surging within. The tiny communicator was still clutched in her hands, heart fluttering at the thought of what it meant.

And she had  _kissed_  him! Even though she wasn't sure what had possessed her to to so at the time, there wasn't a single part of her that regretted her actions. In fact, she found herself hoping for future repeat occurrences...

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway from where she stood, snapping the girl out of her trance. Stiffening a fresh wave of giggles, she quickly tucked the small communicator in her back pocket so that Slade would not see it.

"Good evening, Father," she called to him, smiling brightly.

"My, my." Slade gave a hearty chuckle. "You look particularly cheerful this evening, my dear. I take it you've already had your evening coffee?"

There was humor behind his tone, and Rose had to resist the urge to laugh; her caffeine addiction had somehow become an ongoing joke between them, to the point where he would often tease that she kept more bags of coffee stashed in her quarters than obligatory teenage junk food. Or that he might as well assign one of his lesser minions as her personal Starbucks liaison, since she visited the shops so often.

"What is it you wish me to do this evening, Father?" Rose asked.

"Actually, dear Rose," Slade began, placing a fatherly arm around her shoulders. "There is something I have been meaning to show you. A surprise, if you will."

She looked up at him curiously, allowing him to lead her down the way he had just come from. Most of the wing was devoted to various research laboratories. The one he guided her in, for instance, was one of the smaller rooms devoted exclusively to chemical experiments. It was brightly lit, with a pleasant warmth radiating from the several Bunsen burners along the walls.

Inhaling deeply, she openly reveled in the numerous aromas that hung in the air: a sweet, floral scene blended with a touch of vanilla and other spices. One, in particular, caught her interest.

"Is that cinnamon?" she questioned.

"Very good." His tone carried evidence of a smile she could not see as he guided her towards one of the vacant tables in the corner. "Part of a complex blend of chemicals and herbs I've been working on for the last several weeks as part of your surprise."

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what this surprise is?"

"Patience, child." He walked over to one of the countless array of beakers and jars, carefully analyzing each of their contents before selecting one of the smaller bottles. "You see, I've had this theory for some time now. It involves the serum that I was injected with back during the war—the one that helped make me who I am today."

Rose thought back to the stories he had told her. "It gave you super-strength, right?"

"Among other things, yes." From the drawer directly below, he retrieved a small hypodermic needle. "The details are far too complex for your young mind to comprehend at this time, but suffice to say you can think of it as a means of enhancing certain...qualities of an individual."

He paused to allow complete focus on the syringe, pulling off the tip cover and throwing it into a nearby trash can. The exposed needle was then carefully inserted into the dark bottle, and the syringe soon filled with several milliliters of a strange, dark-green substance. Once he was certain he had the proper amount, Slade gave it a few light flicks to allow any air bubbles to float to the top.

"You see," he continued, "I have been toiling long and hard these last few weeks to find a way of controlling your growing powers, and I do believe I may have found the solution right here."

Rose's eyes lit up. "You have?"

"Of course, this is only a prototype; the original formula is based off that same serum given to me years ago, with only slight modifications. But I can assure you that I have conducted every test I could possibly think of to ensure its absolute success."

She stared at the tip of the needle, glistening under the florescent lighting, and gave an involuntary shudder at the sight of the few drops of liquid being test-squeezed out. A tiny warning went off in the back of her mind that something wasn't quite right, but she ignored it.

"I understand."

"Excellent." He seemed to visibly brighten at her willingness. "Just lay back and close your eyes. A little prick, and it'll all be over."

Gaze still lingering over the needle, she gave a hesitant nod and did as he instructed. As she tried to settle herself into a more comfortable position, however, she felt a sudden weight being pressed against her chest. Gasping, she tried to sit back up...but couldn't.

A large strap was suddenly pinning her down to the table, holding her arms to her sides.

"F-father?" she questioned nervously.

He did not answer right away, his attention on securing a second strap across her stomach and wrists. Within moments, her legs were equally pinned to the cold, metal surface.

"I must apologize for the body restraints," He eventually spoke up, though he didn't sound all that sorry. "You see, I needed to be sure you wouldn't just up and run off on me again."

"W-why would I—"

"You think I haven't known all this time about your regular trysts with young Robin," he interrupted suddenly, and Rose's face went white. "Oh, but I have, child. And I allowed it because you continued to remain loyal to me all this time, following my every command without so much as a wince. After all, the occasional fling with the other side is hardly uncommon."

"I-It's not like that, Father!" She pleaded, voice quivering. "I swear!"

"Do not lie to me, Rose. The evidence is still on your very person." His hand shot out, reaching beneath her pinned form. A moment later, he pulled back with the communicator in his hand. "Well, well, what have we here?"

Her whole body trembled as she watched him give the device a good once-over, then crushed it with his bare hand. Blue sparks emitted from where metal and plastic clashed as it fell to the floor, where it was trampled on and instantly forgotten.

"I suppose I can understand," he sighed wistfully. "It's so easy to be persuaded by such seductive lies and empty promises. They can be quite convincing, and with all those teenage hormones floating around...well," he chuckled darkly, a sound that made Rose's blood run cold. "I was young once, you know. Therefore, I am willing to forgive and forget."

"Then..." she managed to get out, "What is all this?"

"It is as I told you before, my dear, dear Rose." There was more than hint of disgust as he spoke her name now. "I do not wish you to just up and run off on me. After all, who knows how you might react to the serum?"

She was crying now, the hot tears freely flowing down her cheeks. "I thought you said...you were going to help me get my powers under control."

"I am," Slade agreed, pulling the fabric over her shoulders just enough to run a sterile swap over the area. "... _my_  control, that is."

A wave of pain like she had never known shot through her arm just them, like he had set every last artery on fire. She tried to scream, but the sounds choked on themselves as her muscles went into a series of involuntary convulsions. The room began to blur, the bright lights seemingly dimming before her very eyes until—mercifully-she passed out.

*** * ***

"You're looking particularly pleased with yourself this evening," Virgil called out slyly from the main couch as he caught sight of Tim entering the common room.

"And you're looking particularly not-dead," Tim shot back with a grin, taking note of his friend's several bruises and bandages. "Nice cast, by the way. Would you like me to sign it?"

"Ha—frickin'—ha."

"You got off easy this time, Virg." He strolled into the kitchen area, where Donna and Manuel were in the middle of setting up an assembly line of Mexican-themed ingredients. "Either that, or Donna's getting soft."

The girl in question gave a loud 'humph' at the notion.

"He called  _Señorita_  Wonder Woman from the hospital after she broke his arm," Manuel explained, looking obviously amused at the memory. "Now, she is not allowed to cause harm until he is fully healed."

"If he lives that long," Donna muttered darkly, shooting Virgil a glare.

"Donna," Conner sighed from his seat on the recliner. "Remember what I told you about committing murder in cold blood?"

"There's not a jury that would convict me!"

"Probably because she's scare them all into rendering an innocent verdict," Tim muttered in Manuel's ear, and together they shared a laugh.

Swiping one of the styrofoam plates from a nearby bag, Tim immediately set to work scooping up approximately two of everything he saw. Only when his plate looked like it would collapse under the weight did he consider it adequate, bringing it over to the steps so he could sit and eat. Much as he knew Conner wouldn't dare start anything that evening, he wasn't going to risk being in any closer proximity to the half-Kryptonian than necessary.

Just as he had gotten settled down, however, his communicator went off. Frowning, Tim gave a quick glance around the room to double-check that all his teammates were still present. Sure enough, he was met with five pairs of questioning eyes. It wasn't any of the Titans calling him.

Then he remembered the one other person he knew possessed a communicator; eyes widening, he scrambled to retrieve it.

"R-robin here," he called into the speaker nervously.

The screen fizzled for a moment, but never turned on.

 _"Ti...Tim..._ " A small voice—soft and weak—came through.

The blood drained from his face. Something was wrong. Very wrong. "Rose?"

" _Tim...help..._ "

Then the line went dead.


	5. Chapter 5

Tim always hated hospitals.

It was the silence that bothered him most. Unspoken questions that haunted his every thought, looming over every soul in that hallway too afraid of what the answer might be. Answers that lay just beyond a thin doorway, so close he could reach out and touch the cold metal with his gloved fingertips.

Someone had placed a blanket over his shoulders. He couldn't remember who. A cup of warm tea had been placed in his shivering hands. It had gone cold and untouched. His mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, trying not to think of how much time had passed or what that could possibly mean. Traces of blood... _her_  blood...were still smeared across the front and gloves of his uniform, the stale odor offering fresh memories with every breath he took.

He thought he would vomit at any moment, were there anything in his stomach to purge. His eyes were heavy with a sleep that threatened to consume him, yet he refused to give in. Not before he heard anything.

At some point in time, he had been vaguely aware that two of the League's finest stood just across the hall. Friends. People who might have understood, if his mind had been rational enough to believe that anyone could. But the longer they stood, watching him in silence empathy, the more distant he grew until he nearly forgot they were there at all.

Above the door, the digital clock briefly flashed the Jump City time zone hour.  **2:13 a.m.**

Dick's eyes flickered over the numbers before returning to the near-catatonic boy curled into a small plastic chair. His own heart ached at the sight of his surrogate younger brother in such pain.

"He hasn't said a single word to anyone since they brought him in," he murmured.

Wally West leaned his back against the wall, arms folded over his chest. "Jinx isn't doing much better." He grimaced, frustrated at his lack of usefulness in situations like these. "She's been holed up at the apartment for hours now, crying her eyes out. Ever since we got the news. Blames herself for everything."

"I didn't know they were aquatinted." Dick raised an eyebrow.

A shrug. "Neither did I, 'till this evening. Apparently, she went to go see this Rose girl less than two days ago. Wanted to have some girl-to-girl chat about...y'know..."

Dick did know. "Guess their situation hit her pretty close to home." In spite of everything, he couldn't help a faint chuckle from escaping his lips. For all the years he had known the reformed villainess, she still never failed to surprise him. "But even if they did talk, why would that make this Jinx's fault?"

"She thinks she might have convinced the girl to do or say something that lead to...whatever happened."

It made sense; much as he wanted to assure Wally that wasn't the case, Dick wouldn't have been surprised in the least if it had—even indirectly—been the final catalyst. Then again, a small part of him believed that things would have happened with or without Jinx's influence. He'd been hearing some very interesting stories as of late. Not just the usual Watchtower whispers, either. There were rumors of the young pair having been seen together at semi-regular intervals for the last several months. People who knew and recognized Tim, but hadn't thought twice about the company he kept other than to describe her as a 'fairly cute girl around his age.'

Even more telling, though, were Tim's own words and actions. He had never been one to shy away from emotions, like Dick and Bruce did, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. And, if Dick was reading the situation correctly, that heart was now lying in a hospital bed, bleeding and unconscious.

"Who's with Jinx now?" Dick asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"Toni and Shayera. They offered to stay at the apartment until I get back. Maybe even after that." For his part, Wally looked genuinely guilty about having left his girlfriend at all, even if she wasn't alone. "I promised to call as soon as we find out anything on Rose's condition."

"Well, no telling when that will be." Dick's eyes flickered over Wally's shoulder as he spoke, noticing a familiar face approach. "Hey, Conner. How're the others holding up?"

The current Teen Titans leader heaved a sigh much greater than his young age, hovering over to the two Leaguers before weighting himself to the ground. His eyes lowered, an expression that Dick had been all-too-familiar with during his days as a Titan. At the same time, even he could not imagine the extent of the weight on Conner's shoulders right then; nothing the first generation had ever gone through even compared with something like this. Not even the loss of St...of  _her_...could compare.

After all, that was a personal loss that Dick was left alone to suffer.

"Donna's off with Diana at the moment." Conner began rattling off the status and locations of his team, his voice oddly distant as he spoke. "She's still a bit shaken, but better than she was before. Last I saw Virgil, he was explaining things to Clark and the Lantern, and I think the twins went to look for Pantha. Even if they weren't close, they probably just need to talk to someone who speaks their native tongue."

He finished with another sigh, and Dick's eyes narrowed in concern. It was as if Conner had chosen to bear the weight of suffering for himself and every member of his team, an even greater burden considering the less-than-pleasant history he shared with Tim.

"Why don't you tell us what happened?" Dick asked, placing a hang on Conner's shoulder.

Conner's head lifted in genuine surprise. "Tim hasn't told you himself?"

"Hasn't said a word to anyone." Wally shook his head, sparing a glance in the aforementioned boy's direction. "Poor guy. Way too young to have to deal with something like this. If memory serves, he's even younger than you were, Dick."

Dick chose to say nothing on the matter.

Conner glanced over to his teammate, who had yet to even acknowledge his presence. His face remained oddly neutral, though his eyes betrayed the emotional battle within. It was no secret that Tim had never been one of his favorite people. He was rude, secretive, and showed no respect for authority. Not long ago, it would have been Conner's greatest wish come true for him to stare at the younger boy's retreating form as he left Titans Tower once and for all. But... _this_?

Dick and Wally shared a hesitant look.

"After Tim got that call on the communicator," Conner abruptly began, turning back to the two League members. "He took off without so much as a glance back. No explanation, no nothing. We followed him, of course, but just as we made it to the entrance to that... _place_...some magnetic forcefield or something started messing with our signal locators. Before we knew it, we had lost him..."

*** * ***

*** * ***

_It was pitch-black when the Titans (minus Tim) first entered the underground building, sounds of what felt like cold, crushed marble beneath their feet echoing in all directions. Virgil lit a small charge in his hand, holding it up so that they could get a better look around._

_It had probably been a grand hallway once upon a time, but all that remained now were broken support beams, bits of crumbled wall, and exposed wires hanging down from what was left of the ceiling. There was glass everywhere, the florescent lights above looking like they had all simultaneously exploded. Occasionally, a small shower of sparks would flutter to the ground._

" _What the hell happened here?" Virgil asked to no one in particular._

" _That's exactly what I'd like to know." Conner frowned as he turned to the twins, barely able to make out their white jumpsuits among the shadows. "Más. Menos. Think you can manage a quick sweep of the area?"_

" _Sí!"_

_Offering mirroring salutes, the tiny twosome pulled out their communicators to use as sources of light and disappeared into the dark abyss. They returned less than twenty seconds later, looking grim. Miguel's face had taken on a slightly greener shade than usual._

" _There is no one left." Manuel was left to report, placing a supportive hand on his ill-looking brother's shoulder. "Whoever did not run...did not make it."_

_Donna turned away so that the boys could not see her look of disgust, but Virgil openly cringed. Given the sheer amount of destruction, he could only imagine what horrible fate had come crashing down upon those who 'didn't make it.' Maybe even literally._

_Conner, meanwhile, showed no outward signs of having been affected by the news. His stomach churned, but there was no time to waste. They had more pressing matters to attend to._

" _Split up," he ordered the group. "We'll cover more ground that way. See if you can find where Tim ran off to...and, if possible, some explanation as to what caused this mess. Be careful."_

_The others were hesitant to separate the group, but nodded their compliance anyway. Virgil allowed just enough time for Donna and Conner to retrieve their own communicators before taking off down the West corridor. Likewise, Donna went Eastward, Manuel and a still green Miguel zipped off towards the South, and Conner floated down the Northernmost area._

_The first door Conner entered had been shattered into splinters, several sharp pieces still sticking the warped hinges. Careful to avoid them, he ducked his head as he passed through. If possible, the room had taken even more damage than the hallway. There were scorch-marks up and down the walls, which crumbled into a fine ash when he ran his fingers over them. A mixture of plaster and glass peppered the carpets, which bore some very unpleasant-looking stains. There were no bodies (that he saw), but then, he didn't much feel like digging through the piles of broken wood in the back corner._

_He was just about to leave, when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. One of the piles of wood, smaller than the rest, with scraps of fabric and cotton fluff stuck between the slivers. The remains of a chair, and a fine one at that. No more than a few feet beyond that were the broken shards of porcelain, like those from an old tea set. As he shone the light over it, traces of a red liquid glinted along the edges, slowly dripping into a small pool on the tile floor._

_There was something in the pool. Something...familiar._

_It was difficult to see, with the poor light and blood stains. Fragments of plastic. Mostly black, but with the occasional burnt-sienna piece mixed in. It looked like...like—_

_A scream ripped through the air just then; the burnt-sienna fragments were instantly forgotten as Conner realized it had come from Donna. His heart leapt into his threat as he took to the air at once, soaring out of the room with a single burst of energy._

_He found her standing just outside one of the rooms in what looked to be the medical wing, frozen in apparent horror. Even from the pitiful light of his communicator, Conner could see that she had gone completely white. Her hands had flown to her mouth, eyes fixated on something just inside the room. Curious as to what had upset her so badly, he followed her line of vision...and nearly threw up at the sight._

_Tim was sitting in the middle of a dangerously large pool of blood, his whole body trembling at a violent rate as he stared down at the severely injured girl in his arms. His uniform had been stained in various places, but her long, fair hair was so drenched that it hung off her scalp in huge clumps of red. The scraps of clothing still remaining on her petite frame—just enough to be considered decent—did little to hide the several cuts and bruises on nearly every inch of her exposed skin._

_There was also a bloody, gaping hole where her left eye had once been._

" _What happened? I heard Donna scream." They vaguely heard Virgil swoop down behind them on his energy disk, followed by a sharp, "Oh, f-k!"_

_If Donna heard him, she made no move to correct the choice of language._

_A small gust of wind announced the arrival of the twins as well; Conner glanced back towards the two youngest Titans, not surprised to find them equally paralyzed at the sight. He then turned back to the room, where Tim was still suffering from a severe case of shock. If he hadn't been able to discern the faint rise and fall of the shoulders, Conner would have almost thought the boy had stopped breathing altogether._

_Conner grimaced. He needed answers, but it looked like he wouldn't be getting them from Tim anytime soon. If at all._

" _Manuel. Miguel." He turned to the twins, addressing them by their real names. His voice was noticeably softer than usual. "You two are faster than I am. Bring her back to the Tower and start tending to whatever wounds you can. She's lost a lot of blood, so you might need to get her a transfusion."_

_They shared a look between them for a moment, then grew serious and nodded. Supplies at the Tower were limited, but they knew just enough about first aid to administer such emergency treatments from training with Raven and Cyborg._

" _Virgil, call the Justice League. We're gonna need J'onn."_

" _R-right." As if shocked out of a stupid, Virgil jumped, then shook his head and headed off in search of a place without signal interference._

_Conner then turned to Donna, and was about to give her instructions as well when he realized that she was still frozen. Like she hadn't heard a thing going on around her. Taking a step forward, Conner placed a firm, but gentle hand on her shoulder; only then did she turn to face him, as if just having realized he was there, and he saw the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes._

" _Go see to Tim," he told her, motioning to where the twins were cautiously lifting the mysterious girl out of Tim's arms. "Don't worry about getting anything out of him right now. Just...make sure he's okay."_

_Donna nodded absently, wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, and send Conner a grateful smile. He squeezed her shoulder, to which she responded by lightly placing her hand over his._

" _Thanks, Conner," she whispered._

_Their eyes lingered on one another for a moment, until Donna was the first to break away. She stepped back, lifting herself into the air, and flew over to Tim's side._

*** * ***

"...and the rest, you already know." Conner finished. He was hovering again, sitting in a cross-legged position several feet above the ground. It was easier for him to think that way. "The Herald ported us to the Watchtower almost as soon as Virgil called, and the girl was brought here to get treated."

"Rose," Dick interrupted.

Conner looked up. "What was that?"

"The girl," he clarified, not quite sure why it felt like such an important detail right then. "Her name's Rose. Rose Wilson."

"Wilson...Wilson..." Conner stewed over the name for a moment, trying to think of why it sounded so familiar. Realization soon dawned on him, however, and he nearly fell to the ground in shock. "No way! You mean—"

"Yeah, I do."

Conner stared at the two Leaguers in partial disbelief, both of whom seemed to have been aware of this particular piece of information for a while. His mouth opened and closed several times in the span of a minute as he struggled, in vain, for the appropriate words (a scene which the two older boys might have found oddly humorous in most any other situation).

Eventually, he settled for a heavy sigh, holding his head in one hand, and began mumbling a incoherently under his breath. Phrases such as "unbelievable," "shoulda known," and "crazy bad brigade," were just barely discernible, along with certain others that would have sent Donna into a tirade.

The door just behind Tim opened, and a noticeably weary J'onn stepped into the room.

"She is out of danger," he addressed the group as a whole, showing no signs of surprise at who was or was not present. "Her vitals are weak, but stable."

Dick let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and turned to Tim with a smile, but the boy looked no different than before. His eyes were just as vacant, and he had barely moved from his seat. Like he hadn't heard a word J'onn said, or couldn't register what it meant.

"Is she up for any visitors?" Wally asked.

J'onn shook his head. "I will allow no more than two for right now, and even then, it must be brief. She lost a lot of blood and will need time to recover."

Conner and Wally took that as their cue to retreat back, each making almost simultaneous excuses about other places they had to be; Dick did not even have to ask. He placed a brotherly hand on Tim's shoulder to get his attention.

The boy stirred for a moment, slowly lifting his head, and rose to his feet.

"Hey," Dick whispered into his ear, "You heard what J'onn said. She's gonna be okay."

"No, she's not." Tim muttered absently. He looked like he would burst into tears at any moment. "She'll never be okay."

Dick stared curiously, but when Tim offered no further explanation, said nothing further.

Together, the two followed J'onn through the large doorway, into what looked like a small hospital room. It smelled clean and fresh, free of the usual foul medicines and sterilization products one often found in such a place. The gentle humming of machines was accompanied by the occasional beeping of a steady heart rate. There was little else in the way of medical supplies, save for the pair of hung IV bags and a thin oxygen tube running under Rose's nostrils.

Rose was awake, lying against a soft pillow with her head turned to one side. A large bandage was wrapped around her missing eye, but the rest of her cuts and bruises looked much less severe than when she was first brought in. Her hair was still slightly damp from having been washed, sticking out at various angles.

The sight of her brought Tim to life; he rushed to her side, taking a seat on the edge of the bed before anyone could advice him otherwise. His hands quickly found hers, and clasped it tightly to his chest.

"Rose?" He called to her almost desperately. "Rose, can you hear me?"

The girl stirred for a moment before turning to look at him.

She blinked once. Then a second time.

On the third, realization hit Dick with full force.

Her eyes were completely blank. No fear. No pain. No emotion of any kind. She stared up at a boy whom she had shared an incredibly strong relationship with...whom she should have known instantly, in or out of costume...without the slightest hint of recognition.

"H-hey," Tim forced a smile; even from across the room, Dick could see he was struggling to maintain his composure. "It's me. Tim."

Silence.

Dick turned to J'onn in question. "What's wrong with her? Why is she acting like this?"

"Her mind is a mess," J'onn shook his head, his voice low with regret. "A highly unstable cocktail of steroids and other unidentified drugs was injected into her, perhaps in hopes of stimulating the latent powers within."

"What powers?"

But it was Tim who answered: "Rose can see the future." He did not look up as he spoke, absently brushing back a few wet strands of hair that still clung to her forehead. "Flashes, mostly, and they were never all that reliable. She couldn't really control what she was seeing, or when."

Both Dick's eyebrows shot up, impressed. He had met several clairvoyants during his crime-fighting days, but never one so young.

"Indeed," J'onn nodded. "She carried great potential for her age. In time, and with the proper training, I have little doubt that she could have become a formidable psychic."

" _Could_  have?" Dick echoed, not liking the Manhunter's particular choice of verb tense.

From his seat on the bed, Tim's mouth pressed together in a firm line.

"The cocktail did what it was supposed to," J'onn explained further. "But her mind was not prepared for the shock. Hallucinogens stemming from the residual psychic energies have warped her sense of reality. From what I was able to gather, the backlash not only resulted in a total spacial meltdown, but led her to inflict injuries upon herself simply to mirror those of her father."

"You mean..." Dick glanced at the thick bandages. Spots of red were already beginning to seep through. "She did this to  _herself_?"

"Shortly before retreating into her own mind as a survival mechanism, yes."

"So, she's trapped in her own mind, is what you're saying?" Tim asked sadly. His eyes were lowered to the hand clasped between his fingers. Rose, too, was alternating her gaze between it and his face, as if curious about his actions.

"She is still there, yes. Deep within. But there is no telling what long-term effects this will have on her psyche." J'onn paused to allow the weight of the news sink in. "She could make a full recovery...or she could never come out it."

Tim shut his eyes tightly, but the tears flowed regardless.

Rose's brows furrowed together, and she tilted her head to one side as her free hand came up to follow the trail streaking down his cheek.

"Water." She observed. "Leak. Not good."

Tim let out a choked bout of laughter at the sound of her voice, wiping away at his eyes. He forced a weak smile, and Rose seemed to find that satisfactory.

"What will happen to her now?" Dick turned back to J'onn. His own chest felt tight at the bittersweet display.

"I can make a few calls." J'onn began to skin through several sheets of paper on a clipboard. "There are several doctors who specialize in this level of mental trauma. We should be able to get her situated in Arkham in less than—"

" _NO!_ "

The two League members visibly jumped at the forceful cry, J'onn dropping the clipboard in the process. It hit the floor with a loud clatter, accentuating the immediate silence that followed. Tim had risen to his feet with a start at the mention of 'Arkham,' eyes wide and chest heaving.

"You can't send her there." He insisted. "She doesn't deserve to be put in a place like that!"

Dick glanced warily at J'onn before stepping forward. "Listen, Tim. Even if she weren't a known criminal in her own right, she needs to go someplace where they can help her. The doctors at Arkham—"

"No." Tim insisted again. His eyes narrowed darkly as he clenched his fists at his sides. "I won't do that to her. She's been punished enough already."

"It's not a punishment," Dick tried.

But Tim's voice softened little more than a low hiss: "You know what that place is like, Dick. Do you honestly think that admitting her there would do any good?"

"There's not much else we can do." He hated arguing with Tim, but in his mind, he really could not see an alternative solution. "We sure as hell aren't going to give her back to Slade, and she had no other family or legal guardians."

"I'll take care of her."

The statement caught Dick by surprise, both from the unexpectedness and sincerity behind it. He actually had to pause before he could think of a decent response.

"I can look after her at the Tower." Tim continued. "She should be with someone she knows. It...could help." His eyes looked away so that Dick wouldn't be able to see the pain behind them.

"What about the other Titans? What if they don't agree with this?"

"Then I'll bring her back to Gotham with me," he stated without hesitation. "And if Bruce won't help, I'll find my father and ask him instead. I'd sooner give up being Robin than give up on her."

Dick was at a loss for words, staring at the boy—no, the young man before him with what he could only describe as pride. He knew he should have insisted that Tim wasn't thinking clearly, that he was being too rash in his decision. Tim was barely a teenager, full of impulses and a brain that was legally considered to be controlled more by hormones than any semblance of logic.

But Dick also knew that Tim would have sooner run away to Blüdhaven than ask his biological father for anything; the fact that he would even bring up the man in conversation told Dick just how serious he really was about this.

"You...really love her, don't you?" Dick couldn't help smiling.

"I don't know." Tim answered truthfully. "But someone should."

The monitor behind him started beeping at a noticeably faster pace, a scream ripping through the air; they turned to see Rose struggling to sit up in bed, fighting both the needle taped into her arm and the oxygen tube. One hand went to her head as if in pain, and though her eyes were wide open, they were heavily glossed over. Like she was seeing things that were not there.

Or then.

Tim recognized the signs even before J'onn. He calmly returned to her bedside, leaning forward just enough so that he could rest his hands on either side of her head, their foreheads touching. She struggled less in his hold, screams subsiding to a weak cry with each breath.

"She is having a Vision," J'onn explained to a bewildered Dick. A hand was at temple, as if trying to penetrate through the girl's mental defenses. "It is not causing her any physical pain, but her mind is struggling to distinguish between this reality and the one she Sees."

Dick nodded absently, then turned back to the young pair. Whether by Tim's words, or the fact that the Vision was over, Rose had already begun to calm down. Her pulse was slowing to a more comfortable rate, and she was no longer hyperventilating.

"Interesting," the Manhunter murmured.

"What is?"

"It would appear that Rose is subconsciously reacting to the familiarity of Tim's voice. She does not know who he is, but she knows that she knows him." An eyebrow raised. "Perhaps Tim's theory holds merit."

Dick watched Rose lean against Tim, burying her face into his shoulder. The action looked more like that of a small child burrowing into a pillow for comfort than of someone clinging to familiarity. Occasionally, she would reach up and rub at her eyes, but never once seemed to react directly to anything Tim was saying to her.

"What are you saying, J'onn?" Dick asked curiously.

"What I am saying," J'onn began—if Dick hadn't known him better, he would have accused the Manhunter of smirking, "Is that I have a few calls to make."

Dick stared after him as he swiftly exited the room, accompanied by the all-too-familiar swish of the automatic door. He still wasn't sure what J'onn had seen or heard, but he was starting to suspect that the years of playing what was essentially Principal to a bunch of High School-minded metahumans were starting to affect him.

Instincts told him that somehow, someway, Barbara was ultimately responsible for this.

Smirking to himself at the humorous thought, Dick turned back to the young couple.

Rose was murmuring something into Tim's chest, and judging from the look on the boy's face, he was utterly confused by what she was saying. Curious, Dick listened more carefully.

"...cannot...no fault..." he heard, the words becoming less and less muffled. "Final. Needed to." Almost simultaneously, he and Tim realized that she was talking directly to them. Like a message that they alone were supposed to hear, even though they had no idea what she could possibly be talking about. "I...no guilt. No guilt."

"What guilt?" Tim tried to ask, stroking the back of her hair with one hand. "What did you See, Rose?"

But her eyelids simply fluttered shut and she slumped into a state of dreamless sleep, leaving the boys to wonder what she had saw.

Or who.

*** * ***

Tim never did make good on his threat of moving back to Gotham.

He never even had to suggest it.

Heaving a sigh of relief, the continued Boy Wonder flopped unceremoniously onto his bed, letting his head hang just over the edge. He had been up for nearly a day and a half, and though his body ached from weariness, he couldn't sleep. Drops of water fell from his freshly-washed hair, forming a small puddle on the carpeted ground. The floral scent of shampoo (he'd "borrowed" Donna's after his own supply ran out) was oddly therapeutic, lulling him into a sense of calm as he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

Just a few feet away, beyond the wall his bed was pushed against, he could almost imagine Donna helping Rose get settled in. The Amazonian had been oddly enthusiastic about the task, openly declaring that she would take charge of the more... _personal_  aspects of care, as the resident female teammate. Rose had proven capable of bathing and clothing herself, for the most part, but Donna insisted on standing by the first few nights, just in case.

(Which was  _not_  what Tim was picturing in his mind. At all. Honest.)

Beyond the sporadic drips, he could just barely make out the muffled sounds of her voice. Something about curtains and lamps. It was a calm, pleasant tone—so  _un_ Donna-like that Tim couldn't help smiling.

The Titans had certainly surprised him when, not only had they wholeheartedly supported his decision to bring Rose to the Tower, but each stepped up to offer their assistance in any way that might be needed. Manuel and Miguel immediately stocked the cabinets with coffee after hearing that Rose was a fan, while Virgil contacted Arkham to set up semi-regular outpatient visits. Conner had even prepared a room for her right around the corner from Tim's.

It was almost like they had known what Tim was going to ask even before he did.

Moments before Tim was able to drift off to sleep, there was a loud cry from the other side of the wall. His eyelids fluttered open, and he sat up straight in his bed with a sigh. He recognized Rose's voice easily enough, but the lack of any other commotion kept him from immediately panicking. Grabbing a pair of slippers for his feet, he pulled himself up and out the door.

Entering the hallway, he noticed the other Titan boys poking their heads out of their respective rooms (save for the twins, who shared quarters). After sending them each a look of reassurance, he rounded the corner and knocked against the open doorway frame to announce his presence.

Donna turned around just as he appeared, looking genuinely upset. "I don't know what happened! She just started crying."

"What did you say?" Tim asked, stepping into the room. He tried not to sound accusing, knowing fully well that it wasn't Donna's fault.

"I was just telling her that you were right next door, and the rest of us were down the hallway. You know, in case she needed anything. I wasn't even sure she was listening, to be honest. She wouldn't look at me. Not once."

The cries had faded into a low whimper by then, Rose gently rocking back and forth atop the soft yellow comforter. A similar color scheme made up the rest of the room, including the light pink curtains, beech wood furniture, and grey carpet. Rose, herself, had been given a baby blue tank top and black pajama pants to sleep in; Donna had gone out and purchased them specifically for her that very evening, since Rose was noticeably tinier than the busy Amazonian.

"What's wrong?" He asked Rose directly, taking a seat at her bedside much like he had in the Watchtower medical bay. "Did you have a Vision?"

She continued to rock back and forth, occasionally shaking her head. Tim couldn't be sure if this was an involuntary motion, or if she was actually responding to his question. Even if she only recognized the sound of his voice for the moment, there was always a chance she could re-learn certain keywords or phrases.

"He leaned forward and wrapped her in a partial hug, pulling her head to rest against his shoulder. "It's okay, Rose. You're safe here. Nothing to hurt you."

Her body stiffened at the initial touch, but she gradually allowed herself to relax in his hold.

Virgil wandered in, stiffening a yawn as he rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. "What's going on?"

"Nothing major." Donna tried to explain. "I think Rose is just having a period of adjustment"

Virgil scrunched his nose, lack of sleep causing him to misinterpret her meaning. "Man, I hope not. It's bad enough when  _you're_  PMSing, let alone—"

"That's not what I meant!" Donna hissed, restraining herself from stomping her foot against the ground. "Do you have a death wish or something?" The others could almost see the vein throbbing in her forehead.

"Easy, Donna. We're all a bit tired." Conner appeared in the doorway to diffuse the situation, a twin cowering behind each leg. He looked over to where Rose was half-asleep, leaning against Tim. "Is she gonna be okay?"

Tim nodded. "I think she just got a little scared because she didn't recognize anything around her."

"So, does this mean Señorita Rose recognizes you?" Manuel asked, he and his brother climbing onto the foot of the bed.

"Sort of. J'onn said she recognizes the sound of my voice, at least." Tim gave them a sad smile.

Not willing to see Tim so sad anymore, Donna enthusiastically plopped herself on the bed as well, taking the spot on Rose's other side. "Well, it's better than not recognizing you at all. The rest of us will just have to be patient until she learns to recognize our voices, too." She gave him a wink. "Then she'll really feel more at home here."

Tim sent her a grateful look. "Donna..."

"After all," she continued. "You  _did_  technically make her a Teen Titan. Even if you hadn't consulted with us first."

His cheeks reddened. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be." It was Virgil's turn to speak up. Being careful of his broken arm (and making a point of bringing it to Donna's attention, to which she merely stuck her tongue out at him), he hauled himself onto the nightstand to Tim's immediate right. "You did what you had to do, man. And we get a cute, new teammate out of it."

"That's not true." Conner interrupted. Having remained in the doorway of the room, he folded his arms and leaned against the frame, his expression neutral.

Tim frowned. Was he seriously going to pick a fight right then?

"We don't just get one new teammate," Conner elaborated, and the corners of his lips twitched upward. "I think we can all agree that the day you gave her that communicator was the day you truly became a Titan in your own right. So, belated as it may be...welcome to the team, Robin."

"Uhh..." Not sure how else to react, Tim gave an awkward smile. "Thanks, Conner."

"I'm still leader, though."

Tim chose to play along, heaving a melodramatic sigh as he rolled his eyes. "I suppose I'll just have to live with that."

"Hey, man, you could do worse." Virgil commented.

"Like you," Donna quipped back.

Virgil stuck her tongue out at her over Tim's head, and the room burst into laughter. It was as if all the previous tension and uncertainties between them had been lifted, replaced by a sense of genuine camaraderie. One by one, Tim looked around at the smiling faces of his fellow Titans, and for the first time, felt like a genuine part of the team.

"The New Teen Titans," he murmured to himself, looking down at a peacefully-slumbering Rose with a smile. "Together again...for the first time."

 

 

**THE END**


End file.
